Lost Angel
by toocoolforbeth
Summary: What if Jace wasn't the only baby Valentine took from Celine herondale? What if Jace had a twin brother that he never knew about, living somewhere between the mundane and downworlds? Clace. OC/OC.
1. Stay Awake

**Hey peoples. Please bear in mind while you read that this is my FIRST fan fiction so I'm still figuring things out.**

Sorry if some characters are a bit OOC

**Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING AND NO-ONE! Except some of the future characters but we'll burn that bridge when we come to it shall we?**

"Jace you're not doing it right." Clary Fairchild said, looking up at her boyfriend from his bed. 

"Yes, Clary, I Am." 

"No, Jace, you're not." 

"Clary, I'm nineteen years old. I think I know how to screw in a light bulb." Jace Lightwood scowled down from the chair he was standing wasn't the first time they had had this argument today. They had been trying to change the light bulbs in Jace's bedroom and bathroom lights for three hours! They had all exploded that evening after an incident involving an episode of Glee, a toilet brush, a glue gun, a hockey stick and three Hawaiian pizzas that they vowed never to speak of again.

Jace sighed and hoped down from the chair, flopping back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Clary sunk down onto the mattress next to him, looking up at the ceiling once before closing her eyes. Over the past two years, she and Jace had been using the blank white ceiling as a canvas to create a collage of sorts. Hundreds of photos had been stuck up there with blu tack. They were all of her, Jace and their friends. Many of the ones taken at Takis, the downworlder diner they often hung out at, included random warlocks, werewolves, faeries, nixies and even the occasional vampire. Most vampires, unlike other downworlder's, weren't very happy about shadowhunters and downworlders banding together to create The Council.

There where however, a few exceptions. Simon for example, Clary's vampire best friend. She remembered the fateful night in the graveyard, almost two years ago. It was the night Simon had been turned. A memory fought its way to the front of her brain; Simon lunging at her, looking into her eyes and not knowing who she was. She shuddered at the recollection.

"Are you cold?" Asked Jace's deep voice in her ear. He didn't wait for a response, turning onto his side and wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing her into his chest. She turned her body to face him; eyes still closed, wrapped her arms around his waist and breathed in his trademark scent of lemons and sunshine. Of course she wasn't cold, and Jace knew that. It was just coming into June, but already it was hot enough for her to be able to wear shorts and confidently leave the house without a jacket. But still, she liked being close to Jace and would take any excuse. She knew that Jace felt the same way.

They stayed that way; eyes closed, wrapped around each other, for at least half an hour. After a while she felt Jaces breaths grow deep and steady and she guessed he had fallen asleep.

In his unconscious state, Jace's arms had fallen loose around Clary's waist so, because she didn't feel she was tired enough to be able to sleep just yet and because her stomach was growling at her, she carefully slipped out of his arms, placing her feet gently, and quietly on the floor.

She tiptoed to the door and opened the door. Before she stepped out she glanced back at Jace. He had found one of the white pillows on the bed. They were covered in sketches done in permanent marker. She had done them earlier in the year, on a late Thursday night. She had drawn mountain ranges mainly, what she remembered from Idris.

Now Jace had gotten hold of one the pillows, and was hugging to his chest like a teddy bear while drooling. She laughed silently as a warm feeling spread through her chest, warming her insides. Even after two years, it was hard to believe that Jace was _hers_ and that he wasn't her brother. It still felt slightly odd but it mainly felt right. She had never, in those devastating three weeks or so, believed that he was her brother.

Her stomach growled at her again, so she carefully closed the door and made her way to the kitchen.

It was around two in the morning when she finally felt tired enough to sleep. She didn't bother changing from her cargo pants and light blue t-shirt to pyjamas so she just made her way to Jaces room from the living room, where she had been watching TV.

As she closed the door behind her, being careful not to wake her still sleeping boyfriend up in the process, she noticed that Jace had dropped the pillow and was now lying on his back, his right arm tucked under his head.

She flicked the light switch off and felt her way onto the bed, collapsing next to him. She turned on her side, pressing herself to the side of his body, her left leg and arm thrown across him.

Clary closed her eyes, her mind already dancing on the edge of consciousness. She breathed a sigh and let the rhythm of Jace's deep breathing send her to sleep.

**Hey thanks for reading! **

**Reviews are gold.  
If you review you are gold.**

**I eat criticism for brunch. Yeah, that's right. Brunch.**


	2. I Fight Dirty

**Okay so im actually uploading chapter two at the same time as chapter one because I don't think that chapter one goes far enough into the story. Chapter one was more of a prologue. **

**Disclaimer: Damn that fairy! It lied to me! Still not Cassandra Clare... *sulk***

It had to be at least ten in the morning when Clary finally opened her eyes. Jace had opened the curtains so bright sunlight was filling the room with a golden aura. She turned over in the bed, her bones creaking stiffly from being stationary for hours. Jace no longer occupied the bedspace beside her, but she knew he wasn't far away. She could already hear his loud voice drifting down the hall from the Institute's kitchen. 

"Do you seriously expect me to eat this?"  
"Oh my God, you have to be the most ungrateful little piece of sh-" there was a loud smash of something metal hitting the tiles as Isabelle Lightwood, Jace's adopted sister's, shrill voice cut off with a shriek.

Clary sighed and peeled herself from the bed. As she passed the mirror next to Jace's door she quickly straightened the now wrinkled t-shirt and pants she'd worn to bed. She attempted to smooth the wrinkles but they stubbornly stuck in shape. She sighed inwardly and made her way to the kitchen.

Clary arrived at the kitchen and took in the scene played out before her, aggravated, but not entirely surprised. Isabelle was standing on one of the kitchen table, looking like she was this far away from bursting into tears. Clary knew this would never happen though; Isabelle never cried. There was this blackish yellow sludge all over the kitchen floor as well as a half a frying pan. Clary didn't even want to think about what happened to the other half. Jace was leaning on the stove, looking bored and also seemingly unaware that the edge of his gray t-shirt was on fire.

He looked up smiling when he saw her standing in the doorway her mouth hanging open and her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she gaped at his flaming t-shirt that he still seemed oblivious to. 

"Hey there Clary. I see you are once again in awe of my God-like figure and inhumanly striking features. You never get used to it do you?" Jace smirked at her shocked expression.  
"Jace, you're burning." Clary said, regaining her equilibrium.  
"Yes, I am hot aren't I?"  
"No, Jace seriously! You're on fire!" Clary exclaimed, starting to panic.

Jace looked down, letting out a long string of curses as he discovered the burning shirt and dashed towards the nearest bathroom, ripping his shirt off on the way.

Clary watched him going sighing to herself. _I seem to be sighing too much lately_ She thought as she got out a mop and started mopping up what she guessed was meant to be scrambled eggs off the floor. She didn't follow Jace. She had learned from experience no to. He was likely to be in a bad mood and it was best not to get caught up in that. 

"What the hell was that?" asked Alec Lightwood, Jace's adoptive brother and best friend, coming to the kitchen just as Clary was sitting down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and one of Isabelle's _Cosmo_ mags. She didn't find them all that interesting, but it was either this or _A Shadowhunters Guide To Demons_ and Clary already knew that basically off by heart, seeing as she had passed her Shadowhunters final exam last year, meaning she was a fully certified Shadowhunter now. Jace said she was a natural.

"Jace didn't like the breakfast options." She said, answering Alec's question and Isabelle scowled up from the bowl of cereal she has managed to make herself without burning down the kitchen. Yes, even with milk and dried oats, Isabelle was very likely to cause serious damage to herself and those around her with her cooking. Alec rolled his eyes and pulled a loaf of bread from the pantry.

Meanwhile Jace had returned wearing a dark blue tee and a sour expression, grumbling something incoherent under his breath. Clary reached out to where he was standing, about a foot away and wrapped her arm around the top of his legs, pulling him close to her and laying her head against his hip. He pulled a chair to him with his foot and sat down next to Clary and pulling her onto his lap, resting his head on her shoulder and kissing her neck.

"Ewwww, get a room you two!" Isabelle made a face. Jace reached up and nibbled Clary's ear, just to annoy her. Clary elbowed him hard in the ribs in silent chastisement but kissed him on the forehead.

Just at that moment the sound of the doorbell rang through the institute, distracting everyone from Jace and Clary's PDA's. They all jumped up at once, pushing and shoving their way down the stairs. It was childish they knew, but they hardly ever got anyone new coming to the institute. Simon, who even though he was a vampire could enter they institute because of the Mark of Cain on his forehead, Maia, Magnus, Clary and the Lightwoods, including the Robert and Maryse, Isabelle, Alec and Jace's parents who were constantly in Idris for Council Business, all had keys.

Jace was first to make it to the door and wrenched it open to find a tired looking Luke standing on the institute steps. Luke was Clary's lifelong father figure and, as of three months ago, Clary's stepfather.. Jace was surprised to see Luke there. He wasn't sure why, but Luke rarely came to the institute. He was also pretty sure Luke was supposed to be in Idris with Robert and Maryse. 

"Hey Luke, what are you doing here? Do you need to talk to Clary?" Jace asked Indicating to the small redhead, who had just arrived along with Alec and his sister.  
"Luke!" Clary exclaimed excitedly. She hadn't seen Luke in over a fortnight.  
"Hello Jace." He said to Jace "Hello darling." He said to Clary hugging her. She ushered him inside and they all made their way up the stairs to the living room.

Once they were all seated, Jace and Luke on either side of Clary on the sofa, Alec in a big armchair and Isabelle on the floor at his feet, they all looked at Luke expectantly.

Luke knew he owed them an explanation but he wasn't sure how to go about it. This was big news, and these kids had already been through so much, he wasn't sure how they would react, especially Jace. This did affect him the most after all. 

"Where's mom?" Clary wondered. Jocelyn, Clary's mother, and Luke where practically inseparable.  
"She's still in Idris." Luke explained before taking a deep breath "Look, I know your probably wondering why I came home so early." They all nodded, confirming they were. "You know the old Wayland Manor ruins?"  
Clary nodded "Of course." She remembered it all to well. The images of the stone walls closing in on her and Jace, threatening to crush them, was still a fresh wound in her mind 

"Well," Luke continued "The Council decided to excavate the land and re-build on top of it. It was just sitting there after all."  
"Mom was telling me about that. They were going to build a school or something on it right?" Alec chimed in. Luke nodded "Right, a school for parentless downworlder children. So they were going through the ruin when they discovered that parts of the cellar were still pretty much intact. So they sent people in and they discovered all these old documents and notes Valentine had made on his...work."

None of them liked to think of what Valentine had been doing in the cellar. Isabelle visibly winced at the mental image.  
"Most of them were just notes on his, uh, experiments, but there was something that was a lot more important than that. Something that we all agreed should be given to _you,_ Jace."

Luke reached into his bag and pulled out a worn, brown leather book. The cover faded, the material peeled off or peeling in some places. There were bits of hard dirt still stuck on it and it looked very old. He held it out to Jace.  
Jace took it in his hands, a bemused look on his face. "Uh, thanks... What is it?"  
"It's the journal describing the first two years after you were born Jace."

Jace looked at the old book. It was very warm and soft in his hands, surprisingly so. Jace understood why Luke would think he might want to have it. It _was_ his life was it not? It made perfect sense that Luke would give him the book. What didn't make sense was that Luke would come back from Idris early and deliver it personally. Couldn't he have waited one or two more weeks? Or mailed it over? 

"Umm, I appreciate the thought. Thank you. But you didn't have to cut your trip short just to give it to me."  
Luke frowned at him. "I think I did. Read the first page."

Jace opened the book cautiously as if he expected something to blow up in his face. He turned to the first page and read out loud;

"_**March 13**__**th**__** 1991: 2 days after birth**_

_**The boys are sleeping regularly and eating the normal amount for their weight. Although I hope to train both boys, I am seeing more promise in Jonathan than Dexter..."**_

Jace trailed off. "Wait, what? This doesn't make sense. "_Both Boys"_?_ "Dexter"_? Who the hell is Dexter?"  
"Dexter was or should I say _is _Celine and Stephen Herondale's other son." Luke said carefully.

There was a long silence as they let Luke's words sink in. Jace's head was spinning a million miles an hour while he tried to keep track of his thoughts and keep his composure at the same time. 

"So what you're saying is," Isabelle said speaking up for the first time "There are _two _Herondale children?" 

Luke nodded. "Yes. Jace you have a brother."

**Ooooooh cliffie. Sorry, but I couldn't resist. Plz don't hate me.**

**Reviews are my crack. **

**PLZ BE HONEST! All criticism is constructive.**

**XOXOXO**

**Fabulosgal**


	3. This Is My Reaction

"What?" Jace looked at Luke as if he'd just told him that he was breeding mutant deer in the basement.

"I said-" Luke started but was cut off by Jace.

"I know what you said but it's not true! It's impossible."

"Jace, I know it seems insane, but if you'll just hear me out-"

"I was the only child at the Wayland manor. I would have noticed. And there was no way Valentine could have split his time in between three."

"If you'll just let me finish please!" Luke's voice was forceful enough to keep Jace's mouth shut, but only just. "I've read the journal and Valentine didn't actually keep the boy through his childhood."

"What do you mean?" Clary glanced at Jace, who was leaning forward in his chair, looking more curious than unbelieving, now that he'd had a second to cool down.

"Dexter was nothing like Valentine had hoped."Luke continued "Because he was -_is_- Jace's twin, Valentine assumed that they would be similar. But they weren't. Even as an infant, Valentine was afraid that he would never be as good a warrior as he intended. He was clumsy and could never concentrate on anything for more than a minute."

"Yeah, cause' most toddlers are excellent at staying on task." Clary said sarcastically.

Luke smiled at her "These boys had angle blood in them. It was supposed to make them faster, more attentive, stronger, and smarter. Dexter wasn't all that. He wasn't even like a normal Shadowhunter child would have been. He was too mundane. He didn't even start walking until he was one and a half years old. So on his second birthday Valentine left him on a church steps somewhere in United states."

Jace couldn't help but smirk. "That was very cliché of him. Baby in a basket at a churches door."

Luke shrugged.

Clary turned to face Jace. "So what are you going to do now?"

Jace frowned at his shoe, turning serious. "I'm not sure. I-I don't know what to think."

Alec shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Jace..."

Jace stood up abruptly, almost knocking the low table in front of them over.

"Look" He said, his face blank "I just need to think for a bit okay?" He spun on his heel, swiftly making his way across the room and out the door, slamming it behind him.

Clary twisted in her seat to look at the door. She bit her lip trying to decide whether to follow him or not.

"Don't." Alec said, as if reading her mind. "Give him time to calm down before you speak with him. He needs to clear his head."

Clary nodded and sat back properly in her seat. She looked Isabelle, who's coal black eyes were distant and glassy, as if she weren't really behind them at that moment.

Clary thought about how much had changed in the past two years since she had met Isabelle. Back then she had hated her because she was beautiful and confident and untouchable. She hadn't realised back then how wrong she had been.

She remembered with vivid clarity the day she had been proved wrong.

It was a cold day, the end of autumn in mid November. A few days before they had dealt with a demons nest behind a Nightclub in Brooklyn. The demons had been preying on intoxicated mundane girls that had been stupid enough to wonder out the back of the nightclub alone. It was an unexpectedly hard fight and Isabelle had received a nasty wound on her stomach and her left side. Magnus had treated her when they reached the institute, but because it had been a demonic injury she would have to heal the mundane way.

Clary had been walking past Isabelle's room when she heard a whimper from inside. She walked in to find Isabelle, leaning against her wardrobe, panting heavily. She was wearing jeans but only a bra on her top half. Clary was about to apologize and leave when she noticed the large blackish bruise that surrounded the bandages protecting the healing injury. It looked so much worse than it had when Magnus had finished working on it.

Even more devastating than the wound was the look on Isabelle's face. It was tight from pain and just so... vulnerable. Tears chased down her cheeks as she watched Clary with this look in her eyes and said in a voice barely more than a whisper:

"Please don't tell them. Please." Clary had said nothing, walked across the room and helped her put on the dark purple linen blouse she had been holding feebly in her fingers.

They never spoke about it, but from then on there had been a sort of unspoken truce between them.

Clary had realised that day that underneath the makeup and the pretty dresses, beyond the electrum whip and confident gaze, Isabelle was just a girl, trying to prove herself as a fighter in world full of men.

Now, in the library, Isabelle looked at her and smiled reassuringly.

"He'll be okay. It must be a big shock for him cause' it's a big shock for all of us."

Clary sighed. "I know, I'm just worried about him."

"I'm sorry but I have to go." Luke said, getting to his feet. "I have to get back to Idris soon. There's still allot more paperwork to be completed about construction of the school." He gave Clary a hug before turning to walk to the door. He hesitated, his hand hovering just above the doorknob, before turning back.

"Let me know how things go with Jace, okay?" He asked before exiting through the door to make his way to the elevator.

"Do you think we should tell the others?" Isabelle asked, referring to Simon, Maia and Magnus.

"No." Alec said. "We should let Jace decide that. It's his business after all."

"I'm going to go find him." Clary announced getting to her feet. "I need to see if he's OK."

Alec nodded "Alright then. Make sure he hasn't done anything stupid."

"Will do." She said before walking out into the hall, and starting her search for Jace.

**So that's chapter 3!**

**Sorry that was a short chapter but its 12:30 am right now and I'm kind of tired.**

**I'm not sure how good it is. The stories kind of boring right now but it will get more exciting I promise. I still haven't decided whether I'm going to have a story with like a big influencing plot or whether it's just going to be sort of about Jace's brother or something. **

**Don't worry it will get better I promise.**

**Reviews are like chocolate. I get a little and I just want more: P.**

**Until next time,**

**FabGal**


	4. I'm Mixed Up, I'll Be Blunt

**Hello again my loves.**

**Took a while to update. Sorry 'bout that. I'm on summer vacation so now that I have actual time on my hands all I want to do is sleep in and listen to music and search random crap on the internet.**

**So, I got a review from hoppy900 saying she wanted to see some more Jace and Clary action so I did exactly that. **

**BTW it gets a little bit naughty in the greenhouse so if you're iffy about that stuff then you might not want to read this chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you.**

**ENJOY! **

**P.S what is a lemon? Somebody asked for lemons but I don't know what the term means.**

After about an hour of searching through the mainly empty bedrooms of the institute, Clary scaled the metal stairs to the greenhouse on the roof.

She stumbled around the roots of a tree with deep green leaves and a twisting, silvery trunk – not unlike the ones at the victory celebration after the battle on Brocelinds Plain- to find Jace sitting cross legged at the base of the tree. He had one of the leaves in his hand, absent mindedly tearing it to small pieces, his mind obviously elsewhere as he stared out onto the city through the glass walls.

She watched him for a while, as he seemed unaware of her presence. Every time he was done with a leaf his hand would reach up and snap another off a low branch about a foot above his head.

Almost fifteen minutes passed before Jace eventually tore his gaze from the window to sweep his gaze across the room until it finally landed on Clary, who by this time was leaning against a low brick wall parallel to the tree.

"You know, if you keep going at the rate you are, you'll have stripped that poor tree bare by dinner time." She said, getting to her feet and walking to where he was sitting, plonking herself down beside him.

He smiled at her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into his side, kissing her forehead before running a trail of kisses up and down her neck.

Clary wrapped her arms around his neck, mashing her lips against his. He straightened out his legs and she rolled onto her knees so that one leg was on either side of his body. She traced her fingers down his chest as he knotted one hand into her hair and used the other to pull her body closer his so that their chests where pressed against each other.

Clary could feel Jace's heart beating through his shirt and smell the fresh, almost citrusy aroma of the leaves he had been turning into green waste.

For a quick moment, the world was blurred and then suddenly everything was backward. Clary was on her back, Jace hovering above her, leaning on his elbows, his chest just millimetres away from hers.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms, still clinging to his neck, slid down to circle his chest. She bit on the softer muscle by his neck and he groaned softly, digging his face into her neck. She loved the feel of the vibrations rumbling through his body.

His hand slid up under her shirt, tracing the line of her back bone as she knotted her fingers into his hair. Their lips pressed hotly together as they explored each other's skin, memorising every bump and contour.

They seemed to go on like this for hours, until Clary felt something rough softly rub her back, bringing her back to reality.

They were lying, tangled together in the roots of the old tree. The sun was directly above them now, so it must have been at least 12 o clock. They had only been at it for about an hour, though it had felt like so much longer.

She pushed herself away from Jace, softly but firmly.

"No..." He mumbled, pulling her back toward him.

She smiled but pushed away again, remembering why she had been looking for him in the first place.

"Jace, you're procrastinating." She told him, brushing the soil off her shirt and pants. "We have to talk about this eventually."

He scowled, straightening his t-shirt. "I don't see why. I mean, nothing's changed. The only difference is that now I _know_ I have an illegitimate brother that your father abandoned when we were barely toddlers."

"And that's exactly why you have to do something about it." She persisted. "I know you Jace. You won't be able to live with not knowing. You'll want to know the truth."

He sighed and looked at her with weary eyes. "You're right. I know your right."

"Of course I'm right." She smirked. "I'm always right."

"So what do we do now?"

"That's not my decision to make. What do _you_ think we should do?"

He laid out on his back next to her and she followed suit. They stared at the bright sun for a few minutes as Jace contemplated her question.

"There's only really one thing to do." He said, turning his head so they were facing each other.

"We have to find him." Clary said, already knowing what he was going to say.

Jace nodded. "He deserves to know the truth too, doesn't he?"

Clary nodded and they just lay there for a while looking at each other.

"So how do we even start?" Jace asked eventually, after realising that he had no idea how to go about this whole thing.

Clary blinked. "Uh... I don't really know..."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Alec." Jace said, getting up off the dirt, pulling Clary along with him. "Alec will know what to do."

Clary agreed and they made their way out of the green house to search for Alec. They found him back in the library, reading a large brown book.

He looked up as they approached, closing the book and placing it carefully on the table.

"Ah, Jace. I see you have recovered from your little tantrum?" He said raising one eyebrow, something Clary had mastered in the second grade.

Jace paused, trying to think of a comeback to this. When he couldn't think of one he just said in a very childish manner; "Shut up."

Clary groaned and punched him in the arm. "Stop acting like a two year old. He wont help you if you talk like that."

"Fine." Jace said, walking over to the couch that Alec was sitting on. "Alec. I need your help with finding my long lost brother."

"Why don't you just ask Tim Green*****? I'm sure he could help you better than I could."

"Because I am not acquainted with this Tim person."

Clary giggled and said in a strange voice; "They call me... Tim!"******

Both boys looked at her like she'd lost her marbles.

"You're girlfriend is crazy." Alec said bluntly.

"I Know." Jace answered, actually looking proud.

"Alright then," Alec said getting up out of the chair "I'll help you. But first we need to find Simon."

"Simon?"

"Simon."

"But why?" Jace said making a face.

"Because Simon has computers and stuff. We may need access to the internet."

"That's a good idea." Clary admitted. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Jace seemed to be getting increasingly impatient. "C'mon then! To the bat cave!"

"All right, all right. Hold your horses." Alec said making their way out of the institute to find Simon, fetching Isabelle from her room on the way.

***Tim Green is the host of Find My Family US**

**** That is a line from one of my famous movies of all time: Monty Python and the Holy Grail. If you have not seen it I highly recommend that you do. It is filled with many random goodies.**

**So that's Chapter 4! I hope you liked the Clace scene. I did :P**

**Anyhow, Reviews keep me writing so if you wanna see more of this story then please R&R!**

**I love all my reviewers. And all my readers, especially those who subscribe!**

**LUV your crazy author,**

**Beth (Did you know my name was Beth? I don't think I have mentioned it before now.)**


	5. But Our Footprints Washed Away

**Hello readers!**

**Before I say anything, I just want to apologize. I know it's been ages since I updated, but see, about a month ago, procrastination kidnapped me and tied me to a chair in its basement. I only just escaped.**

**This story is mainly just filler, but I thought it would be good to have a little insight into Jace's thoughts on the whole ordeal, since you don't really get a good look at what he's feeling in the previous chapters.**

**ENJOY!**

**P.S you may have noticed that I deleted the author's notes. I didn't think they where relevant anymore, plus I thought they were cluttering up my Story space so yeah.**

The ride to Simon's neighbourhood was long and quiet; accept for the occasional bleep of Alec's phone as he and Magnus exchanged texts. Jace could only assume that he was updating Magnus on the recent discovery of illegitimate family members.

Jace, in truth, wasn't entirely sure what he felt about the whole situation. He was still kind of in shock after learning the new information.

It seemed like his life was a very large puzzle, and he only really started putting it together two years ago, when he had met Clary. Every time he thought that the puzzle was complete, he found more missing parts and more holes that needed filling. That morning he had thought that his life was finally figured out, only to discover yet another mystery waiting to be solved.

He was starting to wonder whether he would ever know everything about his own existence.

As the Q train rattled across the Manhattan Bridge, Jace, for the first time, started to wonder about his apparent "brother".

What was he like? Was he a trained Shadowhunter, like himself? Or had he been raised as a mundane? If so, did he know about the shadow world? He would have had to have seen it, right? All Shadowhunter are born with the Sight after all. However, he remembered Hodge telling him once that occasionally a Shadowhunter baby is born without the Sight, and have to work harder to see the Shadow world. But that was impossible, he had lived with Jace and Valentine for two years, and Valentine hadn't mentioned Dexter having difficulty seeing the Shadow world.

Jace was still clutching the worn leather notebook in his hand. The more he thought about it, the more curious he became.

Dexter. It was an odd name for a Shadowhunter, not a traditional name like Jonathan or Alexander. It sounded modernish, quirky. Unlike the old fashioned name's Shadowhunter children where usually given. Jace wondered why Valentine had chosen it. Had he subconsciously sensed that Dexter would be a "failure", and given him an untraditional name in a subconscious reaction? It might sound like he was making mountains out of mole hills, but Valentine was incredibly traditional, obsessed with the way things "used to be". It seemed out of character that's all.

"_He's supposed to be my twin." _Jace thought suddenly._" Does that mean we are identical?"_ He shuddered. The thought of somebody strutting around with his face was fairly disturbing. All of a sudden a thought occurred to Jace. _"What if he's better looking than me?"_

Jace's expression was one of pure horror as the train neared the station closest to Simon's house. He couldn't get that God forsaken thought out of his head. Clary must have noticed this, because as the train halted to a stop and they all got to their feet, she asked;

"Jace, sweetie, are you feeling OK? You look kind of green." Her brow wrinkled and she bit her lip in concern as they exited the train and made their way down Simon's street, towards the red brick house.

"Yup," Jace said, slowly, popping the P "Absolutely fine."

**Sorry that one was a bit short, but I'm working on a proper chapter and I'll upload it as soon as possible.**

**You should know that it was written at three in the morning so if there's any typo's you'll have to forgive me but I did the best I could.**

**Remember, reviews are what I live for. Flames are my best friend.**

**Love, your author,**

**Beth.**


	6. Following Me On My Desperate Endeavour

**Hello again!**

**Look! It's another chapter. That's two chapters in two days. Are you proud?**

**Anyways, I hope you like it. It's quite a long one. Took up almost five pages on word.**

**Thank you to all my new subscribers. I love you forever.**

**So I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: No, I am not, nor will I ever be, the beautiful Cassandra Clare, although I aspire to be like her one day.**

Clary was worried. Jace had been acting quite strange since they had left the train station. He honestly looked like he had seen a ghost. She decided to put it down to nerves. It was quite a big deal after all.

Turning into Simon's driveway, Clary felt a familiar warm spread through her body. She loved Simon's house. She loved the colour of the bricks (a soft, faded red) and the huge old maple tree out the front of the house that was, strangely, always shedding leaves and growing them back, no matter what time of the year it was.

More than that, she loved the way she felt whenever she was around this house. Safe. She always felt safe. Like as long as she was within these walls, nothing could touch her. She knew it was ridiculous. She was safer at the institute than she was at Simon's place. But still. It had always been like a second home for her.

The mob of teenagers walked up the cement driveway and climbed the old wooden porch steps. Jace rang the doorbell impatiently and repeatedly until Clary gave him a warning look.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" I female voice called from inside the house. Soft, thudding footsteps got louder as someone approached the door. The door opened with a click to reveal Simon's mother.

Jemimah was a small woman, but curvy, with a warm energy. She was incredibly hospitable, always quick to pull a chair up to the table if any of them decided to drop by for dinner.

The Lightwood's relationship with Simon had changed dramatically over the past two years. He and Alec had actually become close. This surprised Clary, because she had always thought that they didn't really like each other. But no, it turns out that they both have a shared an interest in organic fruit. That's right. Organic fruit. You'd think there wasn't that much to know about organic fruit. Apparently there's _a lot _to know. She had to endure _hours _of listening to Alec and Simon discuss the nutritional benefits of blueberries. One word: antioxidants.

"Come in, come in." Jemimah said now, ushering them into hallway. Goosebumps raised on Clary's arms as she stepped inside the cool, air conditioned house.

"Simon's just up in his room." Simon's mother gestured up the stairs.

"Thanks Ms Lewis." Isabelle said, smiling.

As the mob thudded up the stairs, the sound of someone idly strumming guitar chords floated down. Clary opened the door to Simon's bedroom to find him sitting crossed leg on his bed, guitar resting on his legs. He looked up when they came in and smiled.

"Hey honey." Isabelle said sliding onto the bed next to him.

"Hey." He said kissing her on the cheek. Isabelle and Simon started officially dating about a year ago and since then they had been almost inseparable.

"Hey." he said to Clary and Alec, still standing by the door. "Hey assehole." He said to Jace, who had made himself comfortable on Simon's red, fabric office chair in front of his desk.

"Good afternoon bloodsucker." Jace nodded at Simon. Clary sighed inwardly. The two boys were no longer repulsed by each other, they where friends even, but they still had this infinite battle of the wits going on.

"Look," Jace leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees "We need your help."

"Would this 'help' involve a certain long lost brother?" Simon asked, eyebrows raised.

"How'd you know about that?" Everyone immediately looked at Isabelle.

"Oops." She said, smiling sheepishly.

Jace sighed. "So are you going to help us or not?"

"What's the magic word?" Jace glared at him.

"Simon..." Clary warned.

"Okay, okay. I'll help you." Simon placed his guitar down next to the bed, got up off the bed and walked to where Jace was sitting."Off." He said to the blonde haired boy, who managed to peel himself out of the chair.

Jace leaned against the desk as they all crowded around, Clary and Isabelle kneeling on the floor next to Simon, Alec leaning on the chair.

"Well assuming he doesn't live under a rock, he probably has Facebook." Simon said, signing into his Facebook account. "We'll just start searching for all the Dexter's in America." Simon typed the name into the search bar.

3,000 results.

Alec frowned. "I think we need a new tactic." He said to Simon who nodded. "We need to find out what baby boys where put up for adoption in...1994."

"Ooh! And they would have to be around the age of two!" Clary put in.

"And found on a church doorstep." Alec contributed.

"Well that narrows it down." Jace frowned. "But how are we gonna find all this anyway? I mean, I'm no expert at this whole detective thing, but this isn't the type of information you can just Google."

"Jace is right. Were gonna need to get into some classified records to find all that information." Isabelle paused, thinking, until her face lit up. "And who do we know that could get these records with, literally, a click of the fingers?"

"Magnus" They all said in unison.

Jace straightened and turned towards Alec. "Alec, we need you to call Magnus and see if he ca-"

The door burst open and through the doorway flounced a tall lean man in tight leather pants and a glittery bright green oxford shirt.

Magnus.

There was a long silence following Magnus's flamboyant entrance until Simon finally asked what they were all thinking;

"Is he like, psychic or something?"

Alec rolled his eyes. "No, I asked him to come here when we were on the train. I figured he could help us."

Magnus flopped down on the bed and raised his eyebrows. "Oh Alec, how quickly you underestimate my abilities."

"So he is psychic!" Simon exclaimed.

"I never said that" Magnus said, tone defensive.

"So you're _not _psychic?"

"Didn't say that either. You really _are_ quick to judge aren't you?"

Simon just blinked at him, his face blank. Clary sighed again, something she found herself doing an awful lot lately.

"Can we please just get on with the search?" She was starting to get impatient. Jace, she noticed, seemed to be getting anxious as well. He kept on twitching and sifting his feet uncomfortably

"Yes _please._" Jace turned to Magnus, who by now had caught hold of Alec's forearm and was pulling him onto the bed next to him. "So are you going to help us or not?"

"You won't get anything with that attitude, young man." Magnus waggled his finger in a very 'hey-you-kids-get-off-my-lawn' kind of way.

Jace scowled. "What are you, my father?"

"Excuse me, but I'm old enough to be your _grandfather_, and I'm also the best chance you've got at finding this guy, so I think I deserve a bit more respect."

Clary gave H=Jace a pointed look that she hoped said something like 'don't-blow-this-we-need-his-help". Apparently she got the message across, because Jace took a deep breath, let it out, and said, in a tight manner, "My apologies, Magnus. What I meant to say was; would you be oh so kind as to help us in our investigation?"

Magnus smirked at a very constipated looking Jace. Clary smiled inwardly. She could only guess how much pride he had to swallow just to get those words out of his mouth.

"Why of course, my cocky, blonde friend." Amusement was obvious in Magnus' voice, and Clary was very proud of Jace for not attempting to strangle him with his own rainbow leather belt. "I would be just honoured to help you."

"Well!" Alec seemed eager to get back on topic, and Clary couldn't say she didn't feel the same way. "Let's get on with shall we? Magnus if you would be so kind?

Magnus smiled "Of course my sweetie cheeks." He clicked his fingers once before leaning towards Alec and planting a kiss on his temple. Suddenly the room was filled with at least twenty cardboard boxes filled with enough papers and files to sink a ship.

"And so we begin," Jace said, putting on the voice Clary knew he only used when he was in his 'Inner monologue mode'. "The ultimate quest to find the mysterious stranger. Codename; Dexter. Will this send the Mortal Instruments Gang on the path to a better life? Or will it send them into turbulence, yet again?"

Everyone but Jace exchanged worried glances. "Okay... Psycho." Simon made a gesture towards Jace, suggesting that he was mentally unstable.

Clary looked with disdain at the large amount of paperwork they were going to have to look through. "Uh, I don't wanna be a buzz kill or anything, but these files aren't going to sort themselves."

"She's right." Said Isabelle, walking towards one of the many boxes. "Everybody, grab one. This could take a while."

*Five hours later*

"Okay. So we have it narrowed down to three possible candidates." Jace sounded as tired as he looked.

They were all tired. The past five hours had involved a lot of bickering, eye rolling, yelling, sorting, paper cuts, and an 'almost accident' involving, Jace, Simon, a cardboard box and a roll of duct tape, that resulted in Simon being taped to a chair and Jace being sentenced to fifteen minutes in what they named the "Time Out Corner".

Now, they where all sitting on the floor next to Simon's bed, surrounded by papers, files, empty coke cans and pizza boxes. Outside the bedroom window, the sun was setting, sending brilliant rays of gold, red and pink across the sky, and filling the room with a divine glow. In front of them was the three files to the three people they had, after hours of narrowing eliminating possible candidates, decided where the only people in America that could possibly be who they were looking for.

There was a problem though. The three guys where all around nineteen years old and all given up for adoption when they where around the age of two. What the files didn't tell them was how they were given up. It didn't state whether they had been dropped on the steps of a church or put up for adoption officially, in a completely legal environment.

"You know what I don't get?" Alec's tone was thoughtful. "Why didn't Valentine mention any of this to Clary's mom while she was unconscious? I mean, he told her all that other stuff right? Why not this?"

"That's actually something I can explain." Jace said, sounding pleased to have some answers. "Valentine was a psycho. Hated failure. Jonathan, Dexter and I, we were his experiments. And while Jonathan and I didn't exactly turn out the way he wanted, we were still some kind of success. Whereas Dexter was a complete failure, not only did the Angel blood not have an obvious effect on him, he wasn't even like a normal shadow hunter kid. He was as bad as a _mundie. _Valentine couldn't deal with such a massive failure, so he tried to undo it. Make as though Dexter had never existed. Valentine forgot about him, blocked him from his memory. He couldn't admit to his ex that he had made such a huge mistake."

"Makes sense." Clary, who was seated in Jace's lap, rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She felt like she hadn't slept in days. It's surprising how exhausting sitting on your ass can be.

"Are you sure you don't remember him?" Isabelle asked Jace, not for the first time.

"Yeah. I've tried to remember something, anything about another boy living in the manor, but I can't. It was a really long time ago." Jace sighed, exasperated.

"And you where really young." She put in.

"Mmmm" Alec sat with his back against the wall next to Magnus, the warlocks arm, draped over his shoulders.

"So," Simon spoke up for the first time in about half an hour "Dexter Jones, Dexter Fletcher and Dexter Montgomery. Which one is our mystery man?"

"Ah yes." Jace had switched to 'monologue mode' again. "That is the question."

**TA DAAAA!**

**I know, a bit of a cliffie there. Sorry.**

**I hope you liked it. It was written at 2am so again, forgive whatever mistakes you come across, I'll take a proper, more thorough look at it in a bit.**

**Please Review or subscribe if you like it. Remember, that's what keeps me writing, what gives me motivation.**

**I Promise, we will meet Dexter soon, but these are the motions we have to got through before we do so, in order to have the story making sense.**

**Constructive criticism is welcome. Please R make love, not war.**

**Love Beth xoxo**


	7. You Didn't Have To See Things My Way

**Okay, so I know this is incredibly short. It's just filler really. I'm so sorry that it's taking me so long to get into the story. I have actually only written about this much since my AN even though I promised to do it in bulk. **

**But I have had SO MUCH HOMEWORK. **

**I'm not even kidding. **

**When I finish my homework, the last thing I want to do is write a story. I'm sorry. Don't hate me. Stick with this story please. I promise I'll do more as soon as I get the chance, but I'm so flooded with everything. I'm also experiencing writers block, already. Just no inspiration right now.**

**But I figure you guys deserve **_**something**_**, so here we go.**

**DISCLAIMER: I know I'm supposed to come up with some witty response, but to be honest, I can't be bothered. I'm so freaking tired. I don't own MI. Cassie Clare does.**

Clary watched from the table top in amusement as Jace made his way through the cluttered mess that was Simon's kitchen pantry.

"Almost got it..." A muffled yelp came from inside the space, causing a high laugh to escape her throat.

"Are you okay?" she asked between giggles.

"Unf. Uh-huh." Jace managed to be graceful as he slipped out of the doorway, potato crisps in hand.

He looked at the packet in mild disgust.

"Original? Blegh." He kicked the door shut, walking up to the table. "So this is what I bust my ass to get? Hardly seems worth it."

"What's wrong with original?" Clary asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Original is boring. Original is old." Jace's tone was matter-of-fact.

"But it's original!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

Jace raised his eyebrows at the dramatic gesture.

"Come on. Let's feed the hoard before they chew up the curtains. You know how they get when they're hungry."

It was four in the morning and they were still no-where near finding the right Dexter. They had reached the point that no-one was really looking. They were just sitting. And talking. But they weren't having productive conversations. They were talking about crap.

Jace and Clary arrived back at the bedroom to find Simon insisting that no; batman could _not_ defeat the "Sham-Wow Guy" in a battle of wits.

See? Intelligent.

"Nice to see the quality of our conversation has hit rock bottom." Jace's voice was pleasant as he slid onto the carpeted floor, his back resting against Simon's wooden framed bed. Clary opened the foil bag of chips and carelessly chucked them into the middle of their makeshift circle.

"Hey now," Simon put his hand up in a sort of "Stop" gesture. "At least we're not talking about how much we heart Justin Beiber's new haircut."

"That's true. But the "Sham-Wow Guy"? Seriously? Batman would pawn him any day." Clary settled next to Jace, resting her head just below his shoulder as he wrapped his arm loosely around her waist.

"The "Sham-Wow Guy" _does _have a certain charm to him, you have to admit." Magnus said from Simon's bed, where he was lay next to a now fast asleep Alec.

"I think my IQ just dropped ten points, solely from listening to three sentences of that conversation." Jace huffed.

Everyone was silent for a few moments as Clary sat listening to the sounds of early morning, like the caw of the crows that seemed to always gather on the electric wires just outside Simon's window, or the ring of the warning bells at the station that could be heard three blocks away.

Magnus lazily plucked the packet from the centre of the room, and started to chew loudly. Jace looked ready to kill him.

"Magnus?" Clary asked.

"Yes Clary, dear?"

"Shut up."

He did not comply.

**Hope that wasn't too terrible.**

**I know it's boring, I promise we'll meet Dexter and OC's soon. And there **_**will**_** be more Clace fluff, and maybe some Malec fluff, if you're lucky.**

**Anyone got some Ideas as to where this story's gonna go? I need something to get me out of my writers block.**

**Until next time,**

**Beth**


	8. From Coast to Coast

**Hello readers!**

**So here is a new chapter. It only took me about an hour and a half to write this. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I quite like this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.**

**And we're actually getting somewhere! Are you proud of me?**

**So any who, I hope you enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: Nope. Not Cassie Clare. Unfortunately. Just boring old Beth, who will never own, let alone create, anything as brilliant as this book series, as long as she lives.**

Clary smiled happily to herself as she the loud speaker announced that the '360 Flight n Route to San Francisco' would be departing in five minutes, so could everyone please be sure they were seated, and that they're seatbelts where done up securely.

They had done it. They had found him. After weeks of searching, hours of gruelling labour, they had finally discovered which of the three their Dexter was.

No, that's a lie. They had actually found out only about a day after they left Simon's house. They had departed the town house feeling worn, defeated and slightly useless. Simon had kept the three files under his bed, for safe keeping. He promised them he would look through them more, and maybe try to go deeper into the backgrounds of the candidates.

Candidates, she laughed at herself silently. She was making it seem as if she where choosing the next president.

Simon had called her up late, last Saturday night, his voice triumphant.

Turns out that out that Dexter Jones actually had regular contact with his biological family, so it couldn't have been him. Dexter Montgomery, as Simon had recently discovered, was three parts Malaysian, and since Clary was pretty sure that the Herondale family was mainly English, with a bit of welsh mixed in, that cancelled him out.

So that left only one possibility. Dexter Fletcher.

It was a funny name, if you thought about it. It almost rhymed. But there was nothing really special about it. If she had heard the name just two weeks before, she wouldn't even have taken notice. It wouldn't have meant anything.

But now it meant everything. It was the name of a person that could very possibly change their lives forever. That person was their family, but then again they weren't. A person with whom they were so connected to, yet they knew nothing about.

So far they knew exactly things about Dexter Fletcher.

He is nineteen years old; his given birthday was two years before he was given up.

He was living in San Francisco, but he was raised in Chicago.

He was allergic to mandarins.

He was studying at the University Of San Francisco, but not living on campus.

He lived at 456 Salga Rd.

She also knew that Simon would not tell her how he knew all of this information.

But that was okay, because they were going to meet him. And she was excited.

But she was also nervous as hell.

They had bought two tickets to San Francisco almost as soon as they found out. If it had been anyone other than Jace, she would have been nervous about the spontaneity of it all. But it _was _Jace. And Jace was a man of action, after all.

So that's how Clary found herself sitting in a lumpy aeroplane seat, headed direct to the windy city.

Now, she looked over at her boyfriend, who was sitting in the seat beside her, his body tense and stiff.

"Jace?" Clary's brow wrinkled in concern.

"Yeah?" Jace sounded as freaked out as he looked.

"You're not..." Clary hesitated. "You're not afraid of flying, are you?"

"I couldn't say. I've never been on an airplane before."

"Well... the thing is... you kind of look like you're about to throw up. Why is that?"

"Gee, Clary, I don't know. Maybe it's just that the thought of flying 100'000 feet of the ground with nothing holding us up but perpetual winds, or whatever it is."

Clary's eyes widened in disbelief. "Is this actually coming from the boy who threw me on a demon powered motorcycle and flew me over the Manhattan River?"

Jace said nothing, but stared hardly at the blue vinyl seat in front of him, his lips pursed into a straight line.

Clary nudged him in the ribs as the pilot directed the plane onto the runway, the aircraft gaining speed as it travelled down the tarmac.

"C'mon. It's not that bad." They were gaining speed now and the sound of plane tyres against the runway more than audible.

She looked over at Jace, who was still looking intently at the seat in front of him. He looked positively green now, and Clary began to worry about whether or not he would still have his breakfast in five minutes time. She reached into the seat pocket in front of her and pulled out the foil lined paper bag, slipping it onto his lap. She took his hand and squeezed reassuringly.

"The take off is always the hardest. Keep a good hold of that for a bit, just to be sure, okay?" Jace half smiled back at her, using his right hand to open the bag, holding it at the ready.

Clary was very well versed in the whole flying thing now, thanks to Magnus and Isabelle dragging her off to Miami last year, as a birthday gift. It had been a fun weekend, although she was probably the only one that remembered more than half of it. Isabelle and Magnus had had one too many Strawberry daiquiris to have a reliable memory of what had happened. But one thing they _all _remembered was the very glittery, male Stripper called "Hot Chocolate", who turned out to be quite lovely.

Now, Clary gripped the seat and Jace's hand as the plane started tilting upwards. Jace squeezed her hand back, almost twice as hard. And soon enough she was overcome with a feeling of weightlessness as the plane lifted into thin air. Her ears popped again and again, and she yawned as they ascended higher and higher, the many lights of Manhattan growing smaller through the small, round window pane.

Soon enough, the plane levelled out, Jace relaxed- just enough- and the seatbelt lights turned off.

Clary sighed and used her right hand to undo her seatbelt. Her left hand was still held in Jace's tight grip. A slender blonde woman came up to them and peered over the already asleep man next to them.

"Is there anything I can get you?" She asked, smiling politely at Clary and Jace.

"I think we'll be okay." Clary smiled at the flight attendant. "Thank you anyway."

"Okay. Enjoy your flight." She turned, as if to leave, but hesitated. "Be sure to call me if he needs anything." She gestured to a very pained looking Jace. Clary laughed nervously.

"Don't worry, I will." She sighed for what seemed like the millionth time since they left the institute. "Shame he isn't twenty one yet." She said, earning a laugh from the flight attendant, a smirk from Jace and a snore from the sleeping man.

"Don't worry sweetie" she said, patting Jace's hand. "It'll all be over in about-"She looked at her ticket "Five and a half hours."

"Oh, how reassuring." Jace voice was dripping with sarcasm.

She rolled her eyes and reached into her pocket for her earphones, plugging them into her ears. Leaning back in her seat, she closed her eyes and let the sound of Right Girl by The Maine fill her ears. Clary lifted up the arm of the chair and slipped under Jace's arm, pulling his hand up over head and around her shoulders as she did so. She felt the warm press of his lips as he kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer to him by the waist. He absently trailed the tips of his fingers up and down the side of her Maroon tank top.

She could feel sleep pulling at her mind, so she relaxed and allowed her mind to fade into unconsciousness.

_*two hours later*_

She was startled awake by something shaking her. But then she realised that nobody was shaking her. It was the plane that was shaking.

"_Ladies and Gentleman, If you'll just stay seated please. We're experiencing slight turbulence." _The pilot's voice crackled through the overhead speakers.

Clary went to sit up, but paused when she realised that something was holding her down. She looked around groggily, only to find that it was the one and only Jace Lightwood keeping her moving more than two inches away from his side. His face had turned a chalky gray and his left hand was gripping the arm of the seat do tight that his knuckles _were_ white.

"Oh Jace." Clary tried to relax him by rubbing his arm with her hand. "Its okay, this happens all the time on flights. It just means there are some stronger winds, or heavy clouds or a bit of rain or something."

"_We have successfully made it through turbulence; feel free to get up out of your seats as you wish. Enjoy the rest of your flight."_

"See?" She gave Jace's jean clad knee a squeeze. "Told you there was nothing to worry about."

Jace nodded his face still slightly pale. Clary turned her attention to the screen on the back of the seat in front of her. An ad for on-flight television was running on repeat. Only $9.99 for the entire first half of the flight. What a bargain.

"Clary?" She turned her head to look him in the eye. "I love you. You know that right?"

She smiled softly at him, her eyes glowing in the temporarily darkened plane. "Of course. I love you too."

She turned her head so that it was facing in front of her. She checked for the time on the small LSD screen; 1:33 am. They still had a good three hours of flight time left before they touched down in San Francisco.

Meanwhile, Jace seemed to have relaxed, as his grip on her had lessened and the pink had returned to his cheeks. He was looking at her with Lazy, golden eyes, his gaze trailing up and down her body.

"Jace?"

"Yes Clary?"

"I want a coke."

He smirked and pressed the button to summon the air hostess. Soon enough, a shapely Latino woman wearing the same white blouse and red scarf around her neck as the blonde woman from before, moved to them, smiling politely.

"Can I help you?" She asked, looking brighter than anyone should at 1:30 in the morning.

"Uh, Yeah. Just a coke please" Jace smiled charmingly at the woman, causing her to blush.

Clary rolled her eyes, adding "Can you make that caffeine free?" The air hostess nodded. "Thanks" She wanted to get as much sleep as possible. She hoped that Jace would be able to as well.

Two minutes later the woman arrived back with her drink, and Jace handed her a few one dollar bills from his wallet.

The can opened with a fizz. She hadn't realised how thirsty she had been.

Once she had finished, she leaned her head against Jace's shoulder once again, and he rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

"Get some sleep Clary." His voice was almost distant, as sleep slipped over her thoughts and senses. "We've got a..." But Clary never figured out what they had, for she had already fallen asleep.

**So there it is. I thought this was a cute chapter. Who would've thought that Jace would be afraid of flying? Me, obviously. Because I wrote this chapter. **

**As per usual, there might be some errors or typos. Because this was written in the dark, so I couldn't really see what I was pressing. **

**Anyways, Reviews are like my oxygen. Without them, I die. You don't want me to die, do you?**

**Love you always,**

**Beth.**


	9. So Tired, Yet So Alive

**Hello readers!**

**Sorry for the long wait, but here we are! A new chapter. Yay. Okay, so that's just about it. **

**Warning: There will be swearing in this story. Nothing too horribly gruesome, and not extensively. Just the occasional F-bomb, and milder. **

**DISCLAIMER: I actually am Cassandra Clare. SURPRISE! Bet you didn't expect that, did you? **

**Just kidding, I'm not really Cassie Clare.**

**Or am I?**

**Nope...**

Clary had never been to California before. She had heard a lot about it, but she had never actually been. She expected it to be something like what was described in the songs. Hollywood, sun, heat, ocean, bikinis, tans, movies, celebrities, money_. Although_, she thought as she and Jace wandered through the airport dragging their suitcases behind them, _they may have only been describing a certain city, instead as the state in general._

Outside the large, wall length, windows of the San Francisco Airport, a considerably thick sheet of fog hung close to the ground, swirling around the feet of hurrying passengers, eager to catch their flights and meet appointments. It had been a beautiful sight, watching the Californian sunset as the plane circled the city. The sky, brimming with golden light as the burning hot disk rapidly came into view over the hills that bordered one side of the city. Luminous rays, almost the exact colour of Jace's eyes, had reflected off the shimmering water, looking like magic and bright streams of sunlight had penetrated the aircrafts windows and shimmied across Jace's then sleeping face, like tiny dancing angels.

Now, as she glanced at Jace to her right, Clary couldn't help but notice that he looked very un-Jace like, if that explained anything. His hair was tangled and pushed up to one side, where he had been sleeping on it. The red mark he had gained from his face being pressed up against the side of the chair, still lingered on his cheek, and his eyes were red and puffy, seeing as she had waited until they had landed to wake him up, in order to avoid another almost panic attack. His clothes were crumpled and he sported dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. He had only gained about an hour and a half. All in all, he looked like shit. Jace looked at Clary, catching her stolen glance.

"I know," He said, stifling a yawn, "You don't have to say it."

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad." They had left the main terminal now, and where lining up with all the other bleary eyed Red Eye passengers, waiting to hail a taxi.

"Well it's not exactly easy to keep up my usual good looks," Jace's tone was defensive, "especially on a plane suspended at such a high altitude."

"Hey" She put up her hands in submission, "I never said anything about it, did I?"

"But you were thinking it."

"Oh yeah? Since when did you have telepathic, mind reading abilities?"

"Don't need them." He said, wrapping a single arm around her waist, "It's all in your eyes."

"Really?" Her tone was flat.

"Yup." He popped the 'P', "Face it Clary, I can read you like a book."

"I'm sure." She sniffed. Jace smirked at her, leaning down for a kiss, which she happily returned, already over it. She pulled back after a moment, crinkling her nose.

"Ew. You desperately need to brush your teeth." Jace simply shrugged.

"Well, let's get to the hotel, then, shall we?" He said, opening the boot to the cab and hauling his suitcase in. He picked up Clary's from where it stood on the ground next to her. The blonde man took her arm and guided her to the already open car door, helping her in, before sliding onto the worn leather seat himself.

"What's the closest hotel?" Jace asked the cabbie, a middle aged man with spectacles balanced on the edge of his nose, "Something nice, but not too pricey."

"Beresford Hotel?" The man asked, glancing at them in the rear-view mirror, his eyes taking in their appearance.

"That'll be fine." Jace sat back in the cab as they turned onto the road. Clary looked out the window, taking in the beautiful old buildings and the blur of people on the side walk outside as the hustle and bustle of the day started to kick in. She couldn't help but think about how quiet it was compared to New York. In terms of activity, in Manhattan, the days and nights barely differed, but here the change was noticeable. In New York, half of the people were either nocturnal or insomniacs. There is a reason they call it "The City that never sleeps".

She cab pulled up besides an old, white building, with red doors and a black sign proclaiming the building as the "Beresford Hotel". Clary stepped outside, effectively hitting her head on the door frame. She felt a pair of strong hands on her waist as Jace guided her out of the cab and onto the footpath. She waited as he pulled their suitcases out of the trunk, slamming the door down behind him and thudding the back of the car twice, signalling to the cab tom leave.

"Need me to get one of those?" Clary asked, gesturing to the two suitcases. Jace shook his head so Clary shrugged and they walked into the hotel foyer together.

The foyer was painted yellow, with dark wooden accents in the furniture and curtains. At the front desk was a pretty blonde woman, wearing a white blouse, a string of pearls adorning her neck. She looked up at the sound of the small bell that ringed when they entered through the doorway, and smiled.

"Hello, welcome to The Beresford."Her voice held a slight accent. Something European, French maybe, "A room for two?"

Jace nodded and approached the front desk, leaving Clary to watch the bags. She sat down in an old fashioned arm chair, her body aching with exhaustion. The bell on the elevator sounded, and she watched as an elderly couple hobbled out of the lift.

The woman was small, probably a similar size to Clary. Her hair was light gray, but her eyes still held a fair amount of youth. The bright green of her irises seemed to sparkle as she looked up at her partner, a much taller man. The man's hair was a silky white, thinner than the woman's, but his eyes held the same youthfulness as his wife. Clary smiled brightly at the couple, and they returned the smile, just as cheerfully. Clary couldn't help but grin inwardly. The pair looked almost the way she imagined her and Jace looking, when they where old and gray.

_If you ever make it to that stage _she reminded herself. She knew that more shadowhunters died younger than old. But she refused to let herself think like that. She pushed the thoughts away and looked towards the front desk, just as Jace turned away from the blonde woman. He walked towards her across the small foyer and leaned down to pick up their luggage.

"Come on," He gestured towards the elevator, "You look tired. Let's go get some sleep."

She yawned in agreement, and pulled herself out of the arm chair. In the elevator, she leaned against the bars lining the walls of the small compartment. When they arrived at their floor, Clary and Jace trudged down the hall to room 32. Jace slid the key into the lock and pulled the door open, revealing the hotel suite.

The room was reasonably small, with cream walls. In the centre of the far wall was a dark wood, queen sized bed, covered with a black and white patterned quilt. The room was comfortable, accessorised with dark wood furniture and white lamps. The carpet was soft, white wool and contrasted nicely with the teak furniture. On the wall above the bed, framed by black, was a picture of the view of San Francisco from the window of their bedroom. Why they would need a picture of the view, when all they needed to do was walk over to the window to see the real thing, was beyond Clary. Next to the chest of drawers was a door that she suspected led to the on suite.

Clary yawned again as Jace locked the door behind them. He discarded the cases next to the chest of drawers, and stretched his arms up above his head, working out the kinks in his stiff shoulders. She flopped down onto the bed, pulling her jeans off, leaving her in a pair of black underwear. Jace looked over, his tired eyes raking up and down her body, lingering on her upper thighs. Clary pulled down the quilt, slipping inside the bed, pulling the quilt up to around neck. She lazily knocked the complimentary mint off the bed, laying her head down on the soft pillow.

Jace watched her, her red hair clouding around her face, as he peeled off his wrinkled shirt and jeans, leaving his boxes in place. He climbed into the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her upper body. She dug her face into his chest and breathed him in.

"You know," Jace mumbled into her hair, "You look adorable when you're tired."

"I choose to take that as a compliment." Her voice was muffled from being half under the blankets, "Got to sleep Jace." She told him.

"I don't want to go to sleep." He protested.

"Why's that?"

"I don't want to miss any of this."

"This?"

"This. You, mainly."

"What do you mean?" Her voice was curious.

"I don't want to miss a minute of you. I love you too much."

"Corny."

Jace smiled and lifted her head to press his forehead into hers, kissing her nose.

"I try."

**There you go, a bit of fluff.**

**But the best news is... WE MEET DEXTER NEXT CHAPTER! Hooray! I'm so sorry for the wait. I just didn't want to be one of those fan fictions that just jump into the story, without proper the build up. But finally, here we are!**

**Please feel free to R&R! In fact, I encourage it. **

**Every time you review, a unicorn is born.**

**Love,  
Beth.**


	10. In Times Of Desperate Conversation

**Hello again!**

**Wow, two chapters in two days, I must be on a roll.**

**Thank you so much for all the reviews! They are what motivated me to write another chapter today!**

**Anyway, so we meet Dexter in this chapter! It's a long one too. 8 whole pages on word.**

**Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: Nope... still not Cassie Clare... what a shame...**

456 Salga Rd was not what Jace had expected. In fact, he wasn't really sure what he had expected. He hadn't given much thought as to what the house would look like at all, really. But if he thought about it now, he would have expected something a bit more... normal.

It wasn't that the house wasn't normal, exactly. The house, at first glance, looked like many other houses in the street. Two story, weatherboard with red brick foundation, slightly run down, what used to be white but was now more of a cream coloured paint faded and peeling in some places, an old, denim blue Mustang Convertible sitting in the cement driveway.

What made the house stand out to Jace was probably the fact that everything seemed so... mismatched. Like it didn't really belong there. But the strange thing about that was that everything kind of _did_ belong. Like the pieces of an obscure puzzle, fitting together to make a perfect picture.

What was so obscure about this house? Maybe it was the burnt honey coloured Golden Retriever sleeping on the ping pong table under the tree in the front yard, or maybe it was the double length skipping rope tied between the two posts on the front porch, to be used as a clothes line. This, and a million other factors all fit together to make a sort of messiness that, apart from making Jace want to grind his teeth together, seemed perfectly right.

Jace looked at Clary, his eyebrows raised. She just shrugged.

"College students." She said, as if this explained everything. Jace didn't understand how this explained _anything_.

As they approached the house, Jace's heart began to race. He had been trying very hard that morning not to think too much about what was about to happen, but he knew that he now had to face the inevitable. He had no idea what he was going to say to this Dexter character. How would he explain this whole mess? Did he know about the Shadow hunters? Did he even know he was adopted? Jace had to assume that he knew about the Downworld. He had the Sight, after all. If he had been living with Valentine for two years, then Dexter would have _had_ to have the sight. Valentine would have made sure of it.

As they crossed the road and approached the house, Jace started to hear music coming from inside. He was didn't know if Clary could hear it yet, but Jace could just make out a line or so of lyrics.

_...I never take advice from my, friends in very high places..._

As they walked through the front yard, the grass of which was surprisingly well kept, the music grew louder and louder and he could hear a muffle of voices, mixed in with laughter, coming from the back of the house. The dog on the ping pong table's head jerked up as they crossed onto the cement path, leading from the driveway to the porch steps. It looked at the curiously, with big, round, innocent eyes, before letting out a single yelp. It jumped off the table and trotted over to the couple, tail wagging furiously. Jace crouched down, rubbing the dogs head and scratching behind its ears as it moaned in delight.

He smiled. Jace had always had a soft spot for dogs. As a child, he would secretly hope for one on each birthday, but alas, he never did receive. He was always too scared to ask Valentine, for fear of being seen as weak. He never really received any gifts from Valentine for anything other than training, apart from books. The only pet he ever had was a training eagle, and that had ended very badly for him and the poor bird. But still, the wish for a companion such as a dog had always lingered in the back of his mind.

"Hey there buddy." Clary said leaning down to pat the dog, which seemed overjoyed by the attention it was being given, its tongue lolling out to the side of its mouth, "Who's a good puppy? Who is it? Yeah that's right, it's you isn't it? Yeah it is, you know it." Jace smiled at the way his girlfriends voice went high and breathy, as it always did when she was presented with some sort of soft, adorable animal.

Clary straightened her back and watched the two for a few moments.

"Come on, Jace," She said after about a minute, "You're stalling."

He sighed, "I know, I know."

He gave the Golden Retriever won last pat, before standing up again. Clary took his hand and together, they made their way up wooden porch steps. They stopped in front of the front door, which appeared to have recently received a brand new coat of wood varnish. From what he could see through the dappled glass window in the top of the door, it led to a thin, brightly lit hallway. But it was too blurry to be able to tell anything else.

"Are you ready for this?" Clary asked, sounding slightly breathless.

Jace looked at her,

"Nope."He said, and thudded on the door three times.

For a second it was completely silent, before Clary heard the music that had been playing from somewhere towards the back of the house die down and a female voice call from inside;

"Coming!"

There was a light patter of feet before she heard someone twist the doorknob. It opened with a click, and there in the doorway stood a small girl, about Clary's age and height.

As Clary observed the girl, she couldn't help but think that she was the type of person that Jocelyn had spent sixteen years making sure Clary didn't associate with. She had straight hair the colour of dark honey, which ribboned down her back and over her shoulders, down to her waist. Just behind her side fringe was a streak of ultra violet, which stretched the full length of her hair. Her clear, solid, olive green eyes were framed by thick, dark eyelashes. Her skin was slightly tanned and she sported a nose piercing, just a small, silver stud. But her eyes held an almost mischievous playfulness to them, and Jocelyn had always steered Clary far away from people who sported any kind of unnatural hair colours or piercing that wasn't in the ears.

Clary had always thought this a little hypocritical. Jocelyn was an artist, and had always encouraged her to express herself and be her own person, and she always saw dying your hair colourfully or getting a piercing or a tattoo as a form of expressing yourself. Although now Clary suspected that this protectiveness had something to do with the fact that downworlders tended to lean towards this style. And after all, Jocelyn had done everything possible to keep her in the dark.

Now, the girl standing in the doorway smiled at them, a one dimpled smile.

"Hey there." She said. Jace coughed, beside Clary.

"Ugh, hi." He sounded slightly nervous, but if she had been anyone else, she probably wouldn't have noticed. "Um, my name is Jace Lightwood, err, this is Clary Fray. We're looking for a Dexter Fletcher?" It came out as a question rather than a statement.

"Oh," She smiled again. "Sure sure, come in. I'll let him know you're here."

They stepped inside the hallway, looking around, and the music and she noticed that the music and chatter she had heard before started up again. The hallway was painted a friendly, soft yellow, as was the dining room to the right, and the TV room to her right. Several jackets and coats hung on the wall next to them, but other than that the hallway was empty, save the staircase at the end.

"I'm Annabelle, by the way," The girl with the nose piercing said as she turned closed the door behind them, "But you can just call me Anny." She smiled.

Clary couldn't help but grin back. There was just something about Anny that made you... happy. She was one of those people whose mood was contagious.

"Well it's really great to meet you, Anny." Clary said, meaning every word.

"You too, you too. Hey, did you guys just wanna wait at the dining table?" She said, referring to the rectangle, pine table in the room to their right, "I would invite you into the kitchen, but Jessie and Scott are having one of their debates," She swallowed, "and I wouldn't want to scare you off."

"Don't you think we can handle it?" Jace said, smirking, "Or do you think we will run screaming from the house in fear?"

"Well," She seemed to think about this, "I don't know. But I'd rather not take my chances. It's a rather messy thing to witness."

"Oh yes," Jace's voice was dripping with sarcasm, "Sounds dangerous." Anny just shrugged.

"I'll be back in a tick." She said. She hesitated, her green eyes scanning Jace's body, finally resting on his eyes. She frowned, before disappearing up the wooden staircase.

Clary glared at the tall blonde, before walking huffily to the table. Jace followed, eyebrows raised.

"Is something bothering you, Clary?" He asked, sitting down next to her.

She groaned into her hands, leaning her elbows on the dented wood in front of her.

"Why, Jace? Why must you _always_ be a jerk to _every single person_ we meet?"

"I wasn't that bad." He sniffed, "Plus, she didn't seem that bothered."

"She was being _nice_ to us. And I don't care if it bothered her or not, that's not the point."

"Okay then, Ginger." Clary growled, he knew that she hated those types of nicknames, "Tell me. What is the point?"

"The point," Clary said, her voice tight but hushed as she leaned closer to him, so she was no longer in the chair, "Is that everywhere you go, you always, and I mean _always_, find a way to-"

She was interrupted by someone clearing their throat in the doorway. She looked up in surprise to see a tall boy, about Jace's age, leaning on the door frame.

"I'm sorry," He said, "I can come back in a minute if you two want to finish..." He trailed off, his eyes locked on Jace.

And suddenly she realised; this was Dexter. He had to be. And she could guess by the way Jace was looking at him, mouth partly open, that he realised this too. She looked at Dexter, as he stared at Jace in surprise. It was almost comical, looking at them, gaping at each other.

Clary was not sure what she had expected Dexter to look like. She supposed she had envisioned him to look skinny and lanky, compared to Jace. But now she guessed that she had been wrong.

At first she could only see the similarities; the same long, lean body, the same deep, gold eyes, and the same high cheek boned, strongly set face. They looked so _similar_. Like brothers. This, she supposed, is exactly what they were.

But there were the differences too. Dexter was well built, but he lacked Jace's years of training. Although, she suspected he had played sport or at least done some heavy lifting. His hair was a dark chocolate brown and it was long and shaggy, his fringe falling into his glasses covered eyes. His skinned was lightly browned, his cheeks spattered lightly with freckles. His right hand was stuck into his pocket, although she could tell from his left hand that he and Jace shared the same long pianist fingers, although his were less marked than Jaces, having been spared the years of training and runes. He was in cargo pants and a black tee shirt which bore the words; _God save the teenagers of America. _

Jace looked at Clary, his eyes asking her for help on what to do. But she didn't know what to say. She was speechless. Luckily, she didn't have to say anything.

"We need to talk, don't we." Dexter said. It wasn't a question.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and sat down across from them. Just then, Anny appeared at the door, looking concerned.

"Is everything okay?" She asked, her eyes flicking from Dexter to Clary and Jace.

"Um, Anny, do you mind if we speak to him in private, please?" Jace asked, at least attempting civility.

She opened her mouth, as if to reply, but was cut off by Dexter.

"No, no it's okay." He reached beside him, pulling out a chair at the head of the table next to his, "There's nothing that you can say to me that you can't say in front of her."

Anny but her lip and sat on the chair, glancing from Dexter to Jace, and back again. Dexter turned to them again.

"So... go ahead." He gestured for them to start.

"Okay, I guess the first thing would be whether or not you know about the Shadow and Downworld." Clary started, not knowing what else to ask.

"Oh, yeah." Anny said, "We're all over that, baby."

"Sure are." Dexter confirmed.

"You're a downworlder?" Jace asked her.

"No," Anny shook her head, "Not a Shadowhunter either."

"A mundane with the sight then." Jace sounded surprised, "Haven't seen one of you in years."

"Aren't they very common?" Clary asked.

Jace shook his head, "Not necessarily. You just used to see them more because they were required by Clave law to assist the Nephilim. You know; maids, stable hands, butlers. That kind of thing."

"But now they don't have to?"

"They have their own rights; have for about one hundred years."

"And thank God for that." Anny crossed her legs under the table, "Or else I'd be stuck washing floors for some pretentious douche bag, or something equally horrific." She looked at Jace, and added as an afterthought;

"No offense."

Clary couldn't help but notice that they were getting off topic. Before she could direct them back, there was a loud bang from the kitchen, along with a collection of irritated moans and complaints. Anny sighed.

"I'll go." And she pushed out her chair, going to investigate.

"So... where were we?" Dexter asked, remembering that there was a reason that he was sitting at the dining room table, talking to a short redhead and a stranger that somehow had his face.

"Have you always known you were a Shadowhunter?" Jace suddenly felt tired. He needed to get this out.

"Um well," Dexter pulled his right hand out from under the table, holding it so they could clearly see the back of his hand. Displayed there was a black tattoo of an eye, the same eye that every Shadowhunter received on their sixth birthday, as Jace had told her. Its lines were thick, and the darkest black.

"When did you get that?" Jace asked quickly.

Dexter blinked, "I don't know. it's always been there."

Jace nodded, as if this made all the sense in the world.

"Do you mind if I look?" He asked, leaning forward.

"Sure." Dexter copied Jace's movements, giving him a clear view of the mark. Clary leaned forward also. She remembered Jace telling her once that every mark was different, even if they are drawn identically, that they change and morph themselves slowly over time, to match the personality of the bearer. Clary, however, had never been able to establish the differences. "_They aren't really noticeable"_ Jace had told her "_you can barely see them. But they are there."_

Dexter's mark looked exactly like her and Jace's, but Jace seemed to notice the difference. He nodded again before leaning back in his chair.

"Have you always known you we're adopted?" Jace asked, a bit more hesitant this time.

Dexter, who had been leaning on the back legs of his chair (The way they always told you off for in school), and picking at the edge of the already chipped table, sat upright suddenly. His mouth dropped open, a look blatant horror on his face.

"I'm adopted?" He sputtered eyes wide, "How come no-one told me?" His shoulders slump as he shook his head, muttering regretful things under his breath.

Clary gasped, "Look what you've done now!" She yelled at Jace, hitting him in the arm. Jace opened his mouth as if to protest, but he was interrupted by Annabelle's return.

"He's screwing with you," She told them, before turning to Dexter. " Dude? Seriously? Have you no shame?"

Dexter was grinning, leaning back in his chair. She wacked him on the side of the head, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling his head back to look up at her.

"Stop being an assehole," She said, enunciating every syllable, as if speaking to a child. She let go of him and sat back down, looking up at Clary, who was still feeling a bit flustered, and Jace, who just looked pissed.

"He thinks he's hilarious." Her eyes were apologetic, "But he really isn't."

"You like it," Dexter was still smiling, "I know you do." Annabelle just rolled her eyes

"She likes it," He said again, this time to Clary. Clary laughed, shaking her head.

"So," Jace seemed to have calmed down a bit, "You _do_ know you're adopted?"

"Yes." Annabelle and Dexter answered in unison.

"Well okay then," Jace straightened in his seat, "At least, that'll make this a bit simpler."

And so they told them everything. They told them, about Valentine and the Mortal Instruments and Stephen Herondale and the Uprising. Some things he knew a bit about;

"_Downworlder gossip," _He had proclaimed, _"Is a beautiful thing."_

They told him about the battle Brocelinds Plain, about the Alliance rune. They explained about Jonathan and his demon blood and everything. Clary had braced herself for the point in which they would have to tell him about the Angel blood. He didn't say much, just nodded in understanding. She was struck by how long it took, Just to tell a story that she already knew off by heart, having experienced it firsthand.

Two hours later, after they had gone into every detail possible they finally stopped. It was late, she realised. The sun was already setting over the city. It had to be at least five o clock, a fact that was confirmed by a low rumble in her stomach.

"Wow." Dexter said, sounding breathless.

"I Know." Annabelle didn't sound any better.

"That was confusing."

"Tell me about it," Jace grumbled, slumping in his chair.

"I think I get it, though," Dexter said, shifting restlessly.

'Are you sure?" Annabelle looked doubtful, "You did get confused while watching Inception."

"_Everybody_ got confused watching that movie!" He exclaimed, "_You _got confused watching that movie."

She shrugged, "I'm just saying."

There was a pause, in which nobody said a word. They just let everything that had happened in the past three hours wash over them.

"So basically," Dexter said slowly, "What you're saying is that you are my brother." Jace nodded slowly.

"And I was raised for two years by a psychopathic Shadowhunter named Valentine..." He paused, and Clary and Jace nodded again, confirming this.

"Who was actually... you," He pointed to Clary, "Clary, you're father. But then he decided that he didn't like me so he abandoned me on my second birthday." Everyone nodded again.

"Some birthday present."

"I wish there was a nicer way of putting it," Jace, to Clary's surprise, sounded sincere, "But there isn't. You should feel lucky though, I doubt you would've enjoyed growing up in the Wayland Manor. I didn't"

"Well," He smiled, "I guess I hit a stroke of good luck then, didn't I?"

Just then a small blonde guy about their age burst into the room, holding a stack of disposable plastic cups in one hand and a packet of pasta in the other. He was incredibly short, smaller than Clary, and his hair was think and curly all over his head, contrasting with his deep brown eyes.

"We," He announced, holding the stack of cups in the air like a lantern "Are having a shindig."

Silence.

"A shindig?" Dexter stood up, "Seriously?"

"I never kid." The boy grinned.

"I aint cooking, Scott. If that's what you're asking." Anny's tone was final.

"Fine," Scott said, "But you have to help carry out the couches."

"Fine, but you have to cook." Scott poked his tongue out at her before running after Dexter, who had already left the room.

"Hey," Anny said, turning around, "You guys should stay for dinner."

Clary was hesitant, "We don't want to intrude or anything..."

"Don't be silly. But you have to help me move the couch out to the back veranda. I can't do it myself." She grinned at them, before turning on her heel rushing out of the room, calling out to someone, her tone joking.

Clary looked at Jace, who was tugging at the neck of his light grey tee shirt.

"We don't have to stay," She told him, "If you don't want to."

"You know what?" He said, getting to his feet, pulling her up with him, "I think we should stay. It is, after all, rude to accept such an invitation."

She smiled, stretching up to kiss his lips. He bent down, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips against hers. He put his hands in her soft hair, and her heart race quickened. She thought again about how lucky she was, to have Jace, and she wondered how thing would go with these new additions to their lives. She hoped that it would work out, in the end.

She went to deepen the kiss, but was interrupted by a presence at the door. She broke away from Jace, and they both looked to see who was there. It was Dexter, of course, the dog they had been with before, panting at his feet.

"Hi, um, sorry to interrupt," He suppressed a smile, causing dimples o show up on his cheeks, "But Anny says you're staying for diner?"

Jace smirked, "Sure. Why not?"

"Great. In which case you have to come help set up. Sorry," He grinned as he started to walk out of the room, "It's mandatory for everybody."

Clary smiled and laughed as she made her way to the living room, pulling Jace along with her. She had a feeling it was going to be a very interesting night.

**So there you go! **

**I hope you guys like Dexter and Anny and Scott, although you don't really get to know them very much in this chapter, so don't be too hard on them yet. I hope you will like them though, because I do.**

**Review please! I love it when you guys review. It gives me motivation to keep on writing **

**If you review, I will give you six bucks and a Dr Pepper. **

**Love,  
Beth.**


	11. Tonight, We Lie Awake

**Hey there!**

**Ok, first things first. I am so so so so so so so so so so so sorry about the wait. I really am. I have experienced massive writers block. Like seriously. And school has just been crazy. But that is no excuse. I'm so sorry; I hope one day I can make it up to you.**

**So here is chapter 11. I hope you like it. You get to see more of Dexter's character, a bit of Annabelle's and basically nothing of Scott. But you will see more and more I promise. All in good time my dearies.**

**So yeah. Thanks for the reviews by the way. They are what keep me writing.**

**ENJOY!**

Jace could still hear the music playing behind him in the backyard, even as he stepped out onto the front porch. The warmth of the summer day was fading, leaving the slight chill of night in its wake. The dry, cool air settled comfortably around Jace as he rolled the sleeves of his jumper up, closing the front door behind him.

In front of him, he could just make out a tall figure, sitting with slumped shoulders on the railing, facing onto the street. Dexter turned at the sound of the door closing, squinting his eyes in an attempt to see whoever had left the house.

"Hey," he said, recognising Jace's blonde hair and built frame through the thick darkness.

"Hey," Jace flicked the old metal switch next to the window on his left, causing the single porch light to flicker to life. "Those things will kill you, you know." He said referring to the stick of paper stuck between Dexter's fingers, which was currently leaking a thin grey smoke into the air around them.

Dexter snorted and shifted over on the railing, allowing space for Jace to sit. He did so, feeling the cracked white paint under his finger tips as he balanced on the thin, wooden rail. Dexter leaned down and stubbed out his cigarette in a clay ashtray stuck between two thin wooden supports under the railing.

They sat like that for a while, silent, just listening. Jace could hear Clary's laughter, mixed in with the sounds of music and chatter. He could always pick out her laugh, sweet and high, even from such a distance. He heard someone say something, a joke maybe, and a quick retort, then more laughing. Clary and Annabelle had been talking for hours. They seemed to be hitting it off.

He could understand why though. Annabelle was quite a friendly person; easy to get along with. Even he had to admit that. She seemed to be surrounded by a field of energy; it rolled of her in waves, infecting anybody and everybody who came within a five metre radius. It was impossible not to warm up to her after a while, although that didn't mean he wasn't going to resist. He was nothing if not a stubborn person.

Dexter was different; less defined. Annabelle was clear, easy to figure out. Dexter was difficult to read, the edges blurred. It was like trying to read a book in a dark; no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to make out the letters.

Jace supposed that he liked him, but there was something about him that he couldn't seem to put his finger on. Dexter seemed to carry around an air of awkwardness, just in the way he was. He mumbled when he dictated longer sentences, biting his cheek as he spoke. He seemed to listen to conversations, rather than actually contributing to them. He seemed to be a quiet person by nature; only speaking when spoken to - at least in large groups of people-, although he always seemed invested in the conversation.

But despite this, Jace had noticed, Dexter and Annabelle seemed to suite each other. In the past hour he had witnessed about twenty inside jokes and even more friendly insults between the two. In fact, sitting here on the front porch was the first time he's seen Dexter fully alone.

This felt odd to Jace, somehow. Dexter just seemed like the type of person who would enjoy his own company. This, in turn, made him feel bad about coming out here. Like he had interrupted something that nobody else but Dexter could see or hear.

But in saying that, the smaller boy didn't seem all that much disturbed by his presence.

"You know," Dexter started, motioning towards the ashtray, "The only reason I haven't kicked the habit yet is because I kind of like, you know, need the excuse. To get away. To take five minutes off from everything and everyone and not look like a complete lunatic, standing alone in the cold." He sighed, hooking his feet around the support rails and running a hand through his hair, tugging at the back. "I know. I sound insane. I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

Jace looked at him and opened his mouth to say something, anything. But before he could he was interrupted by the dark haired boy.

"Pizza," He said hopping down off the rails onto the grass in front of the house.

Jace blinked, trying to think of how a traditional Italian dish could have anything to do with anything, "What?"

"I noticed you didn't eat much earlier," He picked up the pack of cigarettes and the lighter, shoving the cigarettes in his pockets and then, for reasons Jace couldn't even begin to comprehend, the light into his shoe.

"Neither did I," He continued, "So I think I should go get a pizza. And I think you should come too."

Jace took a deep breath, the cool evening air filling his lung. Beneath the cigarette smoke, Jace could smell freshly cut grass, soil and metal.

"Alright then," he said, hoping off the railing onto the grass next to Dexter, "Should I let Clary know where I'm going?"

"Nah, she won't even notice you've left."

Jace shrugged, and the two made their way down the street.

The pizza place reminded Jace of Takis, in a way. Not because it was a windowless hole in the wall, crawling with downworlders – it was actually not unlike the pizza shops in New York- but because people seemed to _know_ each other. Just approaching the store, Dexter was greeted by many a passerby or shop worker.

"How do you know all these people?" Jace asked after witnessing Dexter make casual small talk with a rotund woman pushing a cart filled with what looked like brand new _Twilight _books into a bookstore.

The boy shrugged, pushing the door to the Pizza Parlour open. A bell sounded as they walked in and Dexter nodded at the guy behind the counter before sliding into one of the vinyl booths.

"They're all regulars. Me and Anny go here a lot, so I guess after a while you just get used to everyone."

Jace nodded, looking around the restaurant. There was nothing particularly spectacular about it. Red vinyl booths, black and white tiles, sticky, chipboard tables framed with aluminium.

The bell rang again and Jace looked up from the menu stuck to the table to see a group of teenagers, about fifteen years old, stumble in. They where a rowdy group; dressed messily in baggy hoodies and skinny jeans, sporting skateboards and grazed elbows.

Dexter chuckled, looking back down at his menu.

"What?" Jace asked, his curiosity peaking.

"Nothing. It's just that they kinda remind me of myself in high school."

Normally Jace would have thought of some sort of sarcastic comment or witty retort to say to this, but for some reason he couldn't. Maybe it was the unsettling tone Dexter's voice had taken on when he mentioned "high school" or maybe it was the fact that, in that moment, the entire day, in all its weird and improbable glory, seemed to crash down on him and suddenly he just felt so tired. Whatever the reason, the only thing he could think of to say was;

"I never went to high school."

Dexter raised his eyebrows, "I suppose you wouldn't have. Don't worry. You didn't miss out on much." His voice had taken a surprisingly bitter tone.

"You didn't like high school?"

"It wasn't exactly my prime."

"Why? Were you bullied or something?" It did click, somewhere in Jace's mind, that this was probably the wrong thing to say, that it was inappropriate. But he was just too tired to take it back.

"No, no." Dexter said, fiddling with the salt shaker in front of him, "I wasn't bullied in high school, just ignored."

For the second time that night, Jace found himself with nothing to say. He supposed it was a good thing, in a way. The boy across the booth didn't really look like he wanted to take the conversation any further. This was a relief for Jace. He didn't like it; this feeling of not knowing what to say. And with someone who he barely knew. A stranger.

His thoughts were interrupted by the waiter; a tall woman with a mousy brown ponytail.

"You guys ready to order?"

Jace quickly glanced back down at the menu that up at Dexter.

"Pepperoni sound good to you?" he asked.

Dexter nodded, adding two cokes onto the order.

It was silent for a few moments.

"So," Jace started, clicking his tongue nonchalantly, "What's The Deal with you and Annabelle?"

Dexter smirked, an expression which looked out of place on his face, "Deal?"

"Yeah, you know. The Deal..." he swept his hand out in front of him, a dramatic gesture, as if it was supposed to explain the meaning behind the words.

"We're not together if that's what you're asking?" it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Are you sure?"

Dexter laughed, "What do you mean am I sure? I think I'd know if I was in a relationship with my best friend."

"So she's your best friend." Jace leaned forward resting on his elbows. "How'd you meet?"

"What's with the whole interrogation all of a sudden?"

Jace thought about this for a moment, "A sudden irrepressible need for knowledge involving your personal life, of course. What else? Anyways, how'd you meet?"

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you. Right," He straightened in his seat, as if he was getting ready to tell an epic tale, "We were young, we were very much in love, but the only problem was that I was a time traveller and I kept on appearing to her at different times in each of our lives, so our time lines were all mixed up -"

"Hey," Jace interrupted, "you think I haven't seen The Time Travellers Wife? You think wrong."

"Admit it. That was funny."

"Me thinks not. Not at all."

At that moment the pizza arrived, along with their drinks. Dexter thanked the waitress, handing over a five dollar tip.

"We met when she tried to steal my crackers," Dexter said taking a piece, the mozzarella cheese stretching as far as possible before breaking off. "And that's the truth. We were four."

"She tried to steal your crackers? Funny, I didn't place her as the type."

"Oh but she is. See, everyone always asks me; "Why do you make fun of Anny all the time?" well this is why. Because when it's just us and nobody's watching, she is pure evil. So anywho," he picked a piece of pepperoni of his slice, plopping it in his mouth. "Tell me how you and Clary met."

"I'd rather not."

"Hey, an eye for an eye. Spit it out."

Jace sighed, "We met at a night club, actually."

"That's right. What'd you call it? The Pandemonium?"

He nodded, "That's right. You know basically all of it anyway. We already told you."

They ate in silence for a while. Jace watched Dexter, who watched the window. He had this look on his face, which very much reminded Jace of the way Clary looked sometimes, like their minds were elsewhere.

Dexter had certain youthfulness to him, more so than Jace, despite them sharing the same day of birth. Jace knew the he and the dark haired boy where very different, mostly due to the difference in their upbringings. Although, how could he really factor it down to this when he knew next to nothing of the other boy's childhood? Had it been happy? Had his parents been kind? Or where they the opposite? He didn't know. Maybe he never would.

Soon enough the pizza was gone, and so where their drinks. Jace slapped down a twenty of the table, and the pair headed down the road again, back towards the shared house. The air had grown colder since they had last been outside, the chill in the air prickling at the back of his neck, making the hair on his arms stand on end. Neither boy said anything as they made their way down the road, but the night seemed alive around them, the night owls and insomniacs just starting to wake up or make their way out into the night. There was definitely something in the air, a sort of atmosphere if you will.

As they approached the house, he once again could hear the lively chatter and laughter piping from the back yard. Instead of going through the building, the two walked around the side of the house and where greeted by the golden retriever, which seemed to have some sort of undying devotion towards Dexter.

"What did you say his name was?" Jace asked.

"Her," He corrected, "name is Audrey. After Audrey Hepburn."

"Audrey?" Jace raised his eyebrows.

"Hey," Dexter reached sown to path the dog, "Audrey Hepburn was a great actress."

"Sure, sure. Whatever."

They turned the corner into the backyard, only to stumble across a very surprising scene.

There was Clary laughing her head off at something somebody had said. This wouldn't have been surprising if it hadn't been for the fact that she was so obviously drunk.

"Jacey!" She chirped jumping/falling off the chair.

"By the Angel Clary, are you drunk?" Jace didn't know whether to cry or laugh.

"Just little bit..." She said as she stumbled towards him. He strode on to meet her halfway and lucky he did because just as she reached him she managed to trip over her own feet. He caught her by the elbows and pulled her into a standing position, where she fell into a giggling mess. Jace thanked his lucky stars that Jocelyn was not here to see this. She would slaughter him.

"She only had two." Annabelle stated matter-of-factly. She hesitated, before glancing towards Scott and a number of other "shindig" goers, who were sitting around a small upside down, crate, playing poker or Uno or something else involving cards. "That I gave her, that is."

"Damn it Clary, you're not even a legal adult yet." He tried appealing to the intoxicated girl, but alas, it was futile. She was all but passed out against him.

"This is my fault. I shouldn't have left her alone with Anny." Dexter said, frowning at the scene. "I told you she was evil."

"Hey!" Annabelle's voice had taken on a defensive tone, "This was so not my fault. How was I supposed to know she wasn't legal?"

"She looks about fifteen. How could you _not _have known?"

"It's nobody's fault, okay?" Jace hooked one arm under the redhead's legs picking her up like she weighed nothing.

"He's right." Dexter said making his way into the house, beckoning for him to follow, "Let's just get her a bed to sleep in, okay?

Dexter led him and Clary up into the house, up the staircase and through a door in a hallway with was decorated with green, striped wallpaper. The room was a medium sized square with cream walls, a dressing table, a chest of drawers and a double bed, which was pushed into the corner. Dexter down the blue, floral duvet and Jace placed the small, sleeping redhead down on the mattress and tucked the duvet up to her chin. Clary moaned, pulling the blanket tighter and pressing her face into the soft pillow.

Annabelle walked in behind them, waiting by the door nervously.

"This is my room. You guys can have it for tonight if you want." She said, "There's no point in going back to your hotel this late. I'll just bunk with Dex."

Jace nodded, "Thanks."

"Sorry, by the way. I didn't think she would have such a... reaction to the drinks."

"Its fine," He was about to continue when a thought jumped into his head, making him laugh lightly.

"What's so funny?" Dexter asked.

"Oh nothing. Just thinking of the headache she'll have when she wakes up."

And with that he headed towards the door, chuckling as he walked out.

**So there it is. Hope you enjoyed it!**

**I'm really hoping you guys like the OC's. I do. I know you don't really get to know them much in this chapter (especially Scott and Annabelle) but you will see more of them.**

**Some Jace and Dexter bonding. YAY. I'm sorry if Jace isn't like the witty, sarcastic character we all know and love, but I'm not witty at all so...**

**I do think that Jace sort of loses his sarcasm as the books go on, especially in CoFA. There are like no funny quotes from that book.**

**BTW don't know if I mentioned this before but I'm skipping CoFA, CoLS and CoHF in this fic, just because I started it before Fallen Angels came out, and I already have a plan for it in my head.**

**Anywho, so people keep on giving me Aston Martin cars for some reason, so I have like 10 in garage! Oh the luck! So I'm giving them away to some lucky reviewers! All you have to do is review and subscribe :D**

**UNTIL NEXT TIME I MANGAGE TO PEEL MYSELF AWAY FROM THE TV FOR LONG ENOUGH TO WRITE A FREAKING CHAPTER!**

**Beth :3**


	12. Reaching For Something In The Dark

**So I'm updating again! Twice in one week, I think that's pretty epic.**

**So it's a bit short. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I don't think it's very good but whatever. **

**So yeah, enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I'm not Cassie Clare, but I have do have Simon tied up in my basement. IS THAT GOOD ENOUGH?**

Jace sat in Dexter's yard, a couple of hours after setting Clary to rest in Annabelle's room upstairs, flicking the ring pool on his can of cake and listening to Annabelle and Dexter's bubbly chatter.

"There is no way that invisibility could be better than flying." Annabelle argued, "How could you even say that?"

"Im just thinking, that in ways of practicality, invisibility would be like, so much more useful. Especially for a superhero and, slash or, villain."

"How so?"

"Oh, how about escaping, hey? Sneaking into super evil, super secret facilities?" He started counting on his fingers, "Spying on secret mafia meetings, sneaking around evil villains to find hostages, fooling the enemy, stealing weapons of mass destruction, should I go on?"

It was 4 in the morning, and the yard was all but abandoned. The only remaining people were Dexter, Annabelle and himself. Everyone else had either gone home or gone to bed.

"What do you think?" Annabelle asked Jace, "The power of flying, or invisibility?"

Jace opened his mouth to answer when a loud, shrill ring sounded through the yard. Jace fumbled around in his pocket for a few moments before pulling out the black Nokia.

"Scuse me for a sec." He excused himself, heading into the kitchen.

"Hello?" He answered the phone, pressing it to his ear.

"_Jace?_"It was Alec, "_You're alive. Good, so Simon was wrong."_

"Why in hell would Simon think I was dead?"

"_He seems to be under the impression that seeing as you're not evil, therefore Dexter must be the evil twin and that he would kill both you and Clary when you touched down in California."_

"Evil twin? Dexter? You've got to be kidding me. I've known the kid all of ten hours and it's already obvious that he's harmless" he hated to sound condescending, but it _was_ the truth. There was something very un-dangerous about Dexter. Maybe it was the glasses or maybe it was the freckles. He couldn't tell.

"_A mundane then?"_

"Basically." He hesitated, "But Alec..."

"_What is it?"_

"Alec, he has the mark. The eye. On the back of his right hand."

"_By the Angel. Is he okay?"_

Jace peered out into the yard, spying the dark haired boy who was now laughing at something. Jace knew what getting marked too young could do to a person. He knew of the screaming nightmares and the panic attacks and the sleepless nights. Dexter seemed to be normal enough, but could he ever really be sure?

"I don't know." Jace answered, "He looks relatively sane. It's not like he's started chanting or muttering under his breath or anything. I think he's OK."

"_I hope you're right." _Jace heard Alec sigh through the receiver.

"Anyway, so what's going on?" Jace asked, curious.

"_Why does something have to be going on? Aren't I allowed to make a casual call to my brother on his trip, to see how he's going?"_

"Casual? Please, me and you both know how much you hate phone conversations in the best of circumstances. Don't even pretend this isn't uncomfortable for you. And besides, what time is it in New York? 7 o'clock? 7.30? When was the last time you willingly got up before ten?

Alec chuckled through the phone line. _"Okay, fine. There's a bit of a demon situation, over were you are. Isabelle and I are portalling over to deal with it. You in?"_

"Of course I'm in. But what's wrong with the institute here?"

"_Bad case of the stomach flu. Apparently everyone's been bed/bathroom ridden for the past week."_

Jace grimaced. "Right then. We're do you want to me to meet you?"

"Wister Rd, Berkeley. One hour. Isn't Clary coming?"

Jace thought of the redheaded girl, passed out on the floor above him.

"Uh, she's not feeling too well. In think I'm gonna let her sit this one out."

"_Alright then. See you soon."_

Jace hung up, pushing the phone back into his pocket.

Just then, Dexter stumbled in trough the screen door, Annabelle trailing behind him.

"Hey look," Jace started, "I gotta head off. There's a bit of a demon thing, over in Berkeley. Is it alright if Clary stays here?"

"Uh yeah, sure." Annabelle looked slightly concerned. "You're not like, going by yourself are you?"

She looked genuinely worried; anxious. She was wringing her hands together, biting her lip. Jace was completely baffled. She had only known him for half a day; why should she care about what happens to him?

"Nah, I'm meeting up with my family from New York."

"Oh good then." She paused, "Well once your done, bring them back here if you like."

"If you're lucky, Del might be making pancakes." Dexter put in. Jace actually remembered Del. A thin, tallish brunette with long, wild curls.

"Alright then." He agreed. "I'll see you in a bit."

And then her was gone, headed towards the front door, the adrenaline and excitement he always got in anticipation of a hunt, already boiling in his blood.

Jace shimmied down the fire escape, his eyes peeled for the greenish black creature which he knew was not far away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alec stealthily moving along the paving below, sticking close to the walls.

When he reached the fourth landing, Jace crouched in front of the closest window. He placed his hands on the cracked yellowish white paint and pushed, sliding the window open. Sliding through, he closed it behind him, turning around to find himself face to face (or more like arm to face) with a small boy.

The boy stood there in his pyjamas, mouth hanging open, brown eyes trained on the glowing seraph blade stuck in his belt. He opened his mouth, and for a second Jace thought he was going to scream, but instead he said something else. Something Jace did not expect.

"Help us."

Jace crouched down beside the boy, gold eyes blazing. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

The he said nothing, instead grabbed the edge of Jaces gear jacket and pulled towards the door to the Childs bedroom.

The door was cracked open slightly, yellow light spilling through. Jace peered through, and could just make out a blonde woman (who he guessed was the boy's mother), in her thirties, strapped to a dining chair with what looked like telephone wire. She was crying, tears spilling down her cheeks and staining her white linen nightdress. Somewhere in another room, he could hear the sound a shrieking baby. He could also hear growling, something disgusting and inhuman.

Jace watched as a spindly, claw the colour of tar and vomit, reached out and stroked the woman's cheek.

"_So pretty..." _The thing hissed.

The lump slithered in front of the woman, blocking Jace's view.

"Stay here." He whispered to the boy, who nodded. Jace pushed open the door slowly, careful not to make a sound. He crept up behind the creature, pulling out the glowing blade.

The woman eyed him over the demons shoulder, brown eyes wide and terrified. He raised a finger to his lips, and she quickly looked away, back at the demon, getting the message.

The things claw slid down the poor lady's cheek, trailing down her collarbone, travelling down, further a further, tearing her dress slightly.

Jace's face twisted into a scowl as bile rose in his throat and he raised the seraph bade, whom he'd named _Castiel. _He brought the blade own hard and fast, detaching the claw that was touching the woman. The demon shrieked as the claw dropped to the ground and spun around flailing its limbs wildly, knocking over the chair and the boy's mother, who screamed, trying to wriggle free of the bonds.

The creature lunged at Jace who sidestepped it easily, spinning and slashing off another limb. It shrieked again, an ear splitting, inhuman sound and Jace thought of the hundreds of other people in this run down, government funded apartment building, who couldn't even hear what was going on. They didn't know how lucky they were.

Just then Isabelle and Alec burst through the door. Alec shot an arrow soaked in holy water, hitting the demon square in the back of the head. It screamed again as its skin sizzled.

Isabelle struck at the demon with her seraph blade, slicing through the oozing, scabbed skin and sending a spray of demon blood onto the wall behind her.

The thing turned towards her, momentarily distracted, and Jace saw his shot. He lunged forward blade at the ready and swung, slicing the thing into two.

The three shadowhunters stared as the demon shrivelled and collapsed in on itself, taking the disembodied limbs with it.

"Please cut me loose, _please, please." _Jace's head snapped to face the toppled over chair, remembering the woman.

Alec bent down beside her, cutting the wire with his dagger.

She scrabbled to her feet, and streaked through a doorway whose door had been ripped away. She reached into a cradle, gathering the baby and its blankets into her arms, holding it tight.

"Danny? _Danny!" _She shrieked. Jace watched as the boy from the bedroom ran into his mother's arms. She wrapped her arm around him, squeezing him tight like she was afraid he would slip away.

"Go get you're jacket and put on your shoes," She told him, "We're gonna go stay with grandma for a while, okay?"

The boy nodded, tearing back through the doorway. It was only then that the mother seemed to notice the three teenagers standing in her living room. She stared at them, pulling the still crying baby closer to her body.

"Thank you." And with that she pushed past them.

Thank you. A lot of them said that. She wasn't any different from any of the other mundanes they had saved, not really. Like all the others, she said thank you. And like all the others, she still held that fear in her eyes as she gazed at them.

Because she was scared of them; scared of the world they were a part of, scared of the things they knew that she didn't.

The sun peaked over the horizon and the trio exited the building, leaving the woman to remain afraid and leaving her neighbours to remain oblivious.

But of course, it never did end any differently.

**So there you go.**

**I hope you liked it. This one wasn't filler; it was more of an attribute to the story. To get things moving.**

**Anywho, reviewers get a free Aston Martin and a cyber hug form yours truly. What could be better than that?**

**Nothing, that's what,**

**Oh, BTW brownie points for whoever can guess where my Chapter Titles are from.**

**Love your forever hopelessly untalented (I seriously don't know why you read this you could be doing so much better things with your time. Like fencing. Or spear fishing. Or adding to your bottle top collection.) Author,**

**Beth.**


	13. AN

**Okay so this isn't a new chapter (although there should be a new one soon) BUT PLEASE READ THIS. It doesn't really have much to do with the story, but I needed to get it out there. I just wanted to point out a couple of things I find annoying and inaccurate that **_**so many people**_** put into their fanfics. **

**That Aline is a bitch/whore/slut:  
Why do people keep thinking that? I mean sure, she made out with Jace, but at that point, she thought that Jace was Clary's brother. SO DID EVERYONE ELSE. And she didn't get weirdly obsessed or anything. I, personally, thought she was very nice and apologetic about the situation. And sure, she was all like "Maybe he won't like you now it's not forbidden" and all that, but like Clary said in the book, she's just somebody who says the first thing that comes to her mind without really thinking first. HOW DOES THAT MAKE HER A BITCH AT ALL? Which leads me to my second point:**

**That Kaelie is obsessed with Jace:  
She is in the books for literally, TWO MINUTES. And what does she do? Nothing that a normal, un-obsessed person would do. Why do people picture Kaelie as this creepy, obsessed ex-girlfriend? How about we just cancel the creepy and obsessed, and just settle with ex-girlfriend? Okay?**

**That Alec is this super shy, super-oblivious-to-everything-sexual kid:**

**I think Alec is quite aware of what goes on around him, thank you very much. He's just stuck inside his closet. Or WAS stuck inside his closet. He's a badass shadow hunter, not a bumbling delinquent. C'mon.**

**That Alec is neat, and gets up at 6 am every morning:  
I mean, seriously? We all know about those sweaters he wears. And does nobody remember the chapter in CoB when Jace calls Alec up at 10 in the morning, and he's still asleep? And Clary's comment about how he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed and thrown on a sweater and a pair of Jeans over his pyjamas? Please, I know you guys know this.**

**That Isabelle has blue eyes:  
Let's set this straight, once and for all; Isabelle has BLACK eyes and black hair. Alec is the one with blue eyes and black hair.**

**That Jace has curly hair:  
I'm pretty sure that Jace's hair is closer to wavy than curly, and that it just gets curled a bit when it gets too long. Clary talks a whole lot in the second book about how his hair is STARTING (emphasise on the "starting") to curl because it's too long.**

**That Magnus is an excitable, shopping obsessed person:  
It's not entirely wrong; Magnus does love his clothes. But the way people portray it? They make him sound like an annoying 13 year old girl. And Isabelle too. They are both confident and cool characters. They are not squealing 12 year olds with a thing for Justin Beiber. Both Isabelle and Magnus are way too badass for any of that. **

**And I think that's it. No offence to anybody who has put these things in their fics. I'm just going by what it says in the M.I books. If I've got anything wrong then send me a PM or a review. I'm open to the thought that I'm not entirely corrects. I mean, I think I'm correct right now, but If anyone where to prove me wrong, I'm not so stubborn as to get offended or anything.**

**Anyhow, I should be updating soon.**

**Happy reading **

**Love  
Beth**


	14. Lay Awake And Dream

**Hey guys,**

**Sorry it's been sooooo long. I don't even have a proper excuse. Pure laziness. **

**This is a bit of a filler, but hopefully it keeps you with me.**

**Enjoy!**

_In the dream Clary was in a white room. It appeared to be some sort of hospital. The fluorescent lights bounced off the shiny, white linoleum under her bare feet as she walked across the room. There was a door at the end, and she felt a physical tugging at her arm, like someone was pulling her along. As she approached the door, it grew larger and larger, until, when she finally reached out to twist the doorknob, she felt like Alice down the rabbit's hole. When she entered the room, she found herself in one of identical colour and dimensions to the previous. She was surprised, and not at all shocked at the same time, to see what looked like a bar stool positioned in the centre of the room. Perched on the top of the stool was a woman, of about 35 years old. The woman had beautiful, long mahogany coloured hair, and eyes the colour of swimming pools. She was beautiful, but she seemed distant, translucent almost, like she could fade away at any moment. The woman was watching a screen of some sort, which appeared to be playing the various, seemingly random scenes of some-one's life in first person. Clary walked to stand beside the woman, and turned to look at the screen._

_First, the person was riding along a path. There was no sound to the video, but Clary could see the bright blue handle bars with shiny pink streamers flying out beside her as the houses in the street blurred past her. Everything was slightly distorted and hazy, like a memory, one that was slowly being forgotten. The scene changed, this one even hazier than the last. Suddenly they were staring at a page in a book. The page was turned over, and everything was still again. The page was turned again. Then again and again and again. It seemed to go on for hours, but was over in what felt like seconds. Then the image flashed from sight again, and this time she could barely see anything. The scene was covered in voids of nothing, distorting the picture so that it was almost unreadable. But Clary could just make out a bundle of blankets, and a shifting shape beneath it. There was a child under there, Clary realised. She could see tufts of dark hair poking out from under the material. Then, without any warning, the scene was gone, and they were staring at a blank white wall. There was no evidence that the screen had ever been there in the first place. _

_She felt a cold hand, as cold as death, grip her arm. She spun to face the woman, and in that moment she seemed solid and clear, her eyes bright with fear and desperation._

"_He has to understand." She said, in a thick Irish accent, "He has to know why."_

"_Who? Who has to know what?" Clary tried to pull away, her chest filling with inexplicable, irrational fear. _

"_Please," The woman was starting to physically fade away, and Clary began to panic – for some reason she couldn't explain, she needed to help this woman- "He needs to know. Clary. He needs to know. He needs to understand. Clary, please."_

_The woman was gone, but she could still hear her voice, ringing throughout the room;_

"_Clary, Clary. Clary, please." The voice changed to an American accent, and everything seemed to go dark._

"Clary! Oh my Angel, Clary, you sleep like a log." Clary's eyes fluttered open to see a very bright looking Isabelle towering over her.

"Finally." The black haired girl said, rolling her eyes. "I thought I was going to have to pull you out of the bed myself."

"Isabelle?" She asked, the dream already half forgotten, fading from her memory. "What are you doing here? I mean, I thought you were all still in New York."

"There was a demon problem in the city, and the local shadowhunters are all out of order, so we offered to cover them until they're back in commission. Too bad you were sick, Clary. That was the most god-damned fugliest demon I have seen this year. It was awesome."

Clary laughed, albeit a little nervously. Sick. Jace had told them she was sick. She was flooded relief to see that Isabelle, at least, had fallen for it.

Although, it wasn't entirely a lie. She felt sick. Her mouth was dry, and her throat felt rough, practically begging for something cool and moist. Her head was pounding; she felt like some was using her brain as a punching bag. She suddenly felt her heart sink and grew very hot. She had made a complete fool of herself. They all probably thought she was just a stupid, immature high schooler – despite the fact that she hadn't been at school in two years. Jace was probably embarrassed to have such a baby as a girlfriend.

Clary grimly followed Isabelle down the green hallway, grimacing as she caught a peek at her reflection in a mirror. Her hair was a wild tangle of red curls around her shoulders, her eyes were bloodshot and the clothes she'd had on the day before were wrinkled. And, although she couldn't really tell, she probably smelled weird. She briefly considered how Isabelle would react if she jumped out the window.

"So..." Clary tried, "You've met Dexter?"That would keep her going for a while, hopefully distracting Clary from her embarrassment.

"Oh yeah. How weird is it, right? I mean, he looks so much like Jace, but not in the way I expected. I mean I was picturing a sort of identical twin or something, but he's so different. A little bit of an odd, don't you think?"

"I hadn't really noticed that. Explain."

"I'm not sure. There's just something a little off-kilter about him.

"Thats rude, You barely know him."

"No, no. Not in that kind of 'I'm going t kill you' kind of way. Something else."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Whatever. I reckon he's kinda cute, in the sort of boy-next-door kind of way, you know? Not that I'm getting any ideas, I mean, I've got Simon. Besides, he looks too much like Jace, it would creep me out. And I think he's got something going on with that short chick anyway."

"Who, you mean Annabelle?"

"Yeah, the one with the purple hair."

"I don't think there's anything going on there."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I don't know. They just seem like really good friends. Kinda like me and Simon." Clary wasn't sure if that was entirely the truth, but she owed them more than to be talking about them behind they're back.

"If you say so." Isabelle said, "Whatever. C'mon, someone's made pancakes."

Clary's stomach growled in response to that, and Izzy laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the hallway, fast. As they rushed down, Clary watched as a ray of sunlight shimmered in the taller girl's shiny, ebony hair. She had a sudden flash of the dream, the woman's shiny, mahogany coloured hair. And then it was gone. Clary shook her head of the memory as they entered the kitchen.

Seated at the old, metal framed kitchen table was Alec, Dexter and a curvy black girl that Clary recognized as Jessie. Standing at the island, leaning next a plate of steaming, golden pancakes were; Jace, Anny and a tall brunette that she vaguely recognized from the night before. (Something starting with M. Meg? Mandy? She couldn't quite remember.)

Jace was the first to notice them enter. He smirked, detaching himself from the island.

"Shut up." She told him before he could even open his mouth.

"What? I was just going to ask you if you were feeling better." Jace said, in a mock-hurt voice, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I totally believe that." She scowled at him but he just put his arm around her shoulder, looking smug.

"And so she awakes." Annabelle piped up, handing her a cup of coffee, "How'd you sleep?"

"Alright I guess." Her cheeks grew hot and she gulped. "I'm really sorry about everything. I didn't- I mean I shouldn't-"

Dexter snorted from the table, interrupting her mid sentence.

"Please." He said, not looking up from the _Woman's Weekly _he was seemingly discontentedly flipping through. "It's not like you're the first person to crash overnight here. I swear it's like a 'Bed and Breakfast'"

"That's like code for; 'no problem!' 'Anytime!'" Jessie put in.

"You know what? We should start charging." Dexter continued, lowering the magazine, "Twenty five a night, including GST."

"Extra for breakfast."

"I'm pretty sure breakfast is included. That's why it's called a 'Bed and Breakfast'"

"Who said it was a Bed and Breakfast?"

Um, what? That's what the whole conversation has been about." Dexter said through a mouthful of pancakes.

Annabelle rolled her eyes making a frustrated noise as the conversation continued in the background.

"This is normal. Sadly."

Jace laughed and took his arm from her shoulders, making his way to the table where Alec was seated. The older boy twisted around in his seat to face Jace and gave her a small smile. She returned it with a small wave.

Clary sighed leaning back against the fridge. Annabelle was sitting on the bench next to the sink, watching the rest of them argue about the difference between motels and Bed and Breakfasts.

She was cute, Clary realised. She had let her hair dry that morning, so it grew in wild, thick, waves over her shoulders. Her neck was tan and long, leading down to softly curved shoulders. Her body was a slim upside down triangle shape under her cotton boxers and over sized tee. There was something about her movement and the shape of her body that made Clary think that maybe she was a dancer.

She was a bit of a nervous looking thing, Clary noticed, with her short bitten nails and big, green eyes, smudged with what was left of yesterday's eyeliner

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

"Jace, what did you do with my stele?" She thought anxiously of the precious heirloom.

Jace looked up, eyebrows raised, "Oh yeah, I just put it in your bag."

"Stele?" Dexter tore himself away from the discussion, "Is that some kind of cheese?"

Alec looked horrified. "Cheese? Cheese? Cheese? No it is not some kind of cheese!" His mouth had opened wide with shock.

There was a pause following the outburst.

It was a few seconds before Dexter spoke again.

"Pasta?"

There was a loud collection of groans, as well as a exclamation of "Face palm" from Simon.

Dexter looked genuinely confused.

"What did I do wrong?" Another outburst of groans. Mel shook her head and walked out of the room. Dexter, seemingly unaffected by the wariness of his peers, simply shrugged and went back to the magazine.

Clary frowned.

"He's not stupid, you know."

She jumped, whipping her head to the side. Annabelle had come closer to her, resting one hand on the table next the fridge. The other hand was up near her mouth, resting on her chin as she bit her pinkie nail anxiously.

"What did you say?"

Annabelle sighed. "I said 'He's not stupid'. It seems that way half the time, but he's actually one the smartest people I know." She was speaking in a hushed tone, so as to keep the conversation between her and Clary.

"Yeah?" Clary quirked up an eyebrow, something she had finally perfected after hours of practicing in front of the mirror.

"Yeah." Annabelle nodded, "But he's just so caught up in his own world, he has trouble, you know, relating with people. And he's so completely oblivious of everything around him. It drives me mental." She let out a short, breathy laugh and shook her head.

Her eyes drifted towards Dexter and the breakfast table, we're Izzy and Jace were talking, and Alec was still cooling down, muttering about steles and carbohydrates.

Dexter clucked his tongue, "Britney Spears got married in Vegas?" He murmured to himself, "_Again?_"

"Sweetie?" Annabelle called across the room. Dexter's eyes darted from the magazine to Anny's face.

"Huh?"

"That magazine is like, seven years old."

Dexter flipped the magazine over to peer at the front cover, pushing his glasses up his nose as he squinted at the small print in corner.

"So it is." He clucked his tongue again. "Huh. We really need to update our reading material." He chuckled. Jace snorted.

"Really? What makes you think that?"

Then there was a silence and everybody just sat there, wondering what to do. Izzy twisted a length of hair around her index finger while Dexter drummed his fingers against the table, looking bored.

Clary leaned closer towards Anny.

"Are all your Sunday mornings like this?"

She laughed, "Pretty much."

**I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL SHE TOOK LIKE 100 000 000 YEARS TO UPDATE AND WHEN SHE FINALLY DOES ITS SO BORING AND COMPLETELY BORING WHY DO I EVEN BOTHER"**

**I'M SORRY! I know this is pretty much a filler, although you have to agree that it does instil a small amount of mystery, right? Who was the woman in the dream? :O**

**Ummm, so what are my excuses?**

**I'd like to say that I've been too busy partying with my huge amount of friends and going to see awesome bands at awesome concerts and music festivals, but that would be a lie.**

**The truth is that I've been spending my weekends eating crappy junk food, playing Mario Kart, reading fanfiction, blogging and watching reruns of Community.**

**The last one I don't regret at all. I don't care what anyone says, Community is the best thing since How I Met Your Mother. I've also been watching reruns of that.**

**Anyways, I'm going to shut up, because you probably won't read this anyway.**

**I'll update as soon as I manage to pull myself off the couch.**

**Adios Amigos,**

**Beth.**


	15. Make Your Past Regret It's Future

**Why, hello again!**

**Surprise! I updated again. You guys should be grateful. I was doing this when I should really be studying for that Maths test or that Italian test I have on Tuesday.**

**But forget all that. Who needs good grades when you have fanfiction, right? Who's with me on this?**

**Anywho:**

**I do not, nor will ever (as sad as it may be) own the Mortal Instruments series. I do however, own all OC's. And Audrey. (That's the dog in case anyone forgot).**

**Enjoy!**

Dexter flopped back on the bed, sighing. Jace and Clary and their friends had gone now, back to their hotel or wherever they said they were staying. Annabelle, being the hospitable mannered girl she always was, had offered them a couple of the spare beds, but they had declined, saying that they should be getting back to New York, promising to portal back soon.

Dexter had never been in a portal. He'd never even seen one, never even heard of one until he came to San Francisco.

He pulled off his glasses, dropping them on the carpet beside his bed. Rubbing his eyes, feeling that cloud of exhaustion that always seemed to be hover over him again, he got that wrenching tug in his chest again. It had been coming recurringly for two days, ever since the blonde haired shadow hunter had first knocked on his door. It was a painstaking reminder that he couldn't keep this up.

Ever since he had first discovered the Downworld, at the tender age of twelve, he'd been living with one foot in this mysterious, ancient world, and one foot in the mundane world. That was the world he was comfortable with, the world he had called home for so many years. It was a world he knew. And he was downright terrified to let it go.

He had always known that he couldn't keep it up forever, this game of tug of war between his life as a mundane and his life as one of _them, _one of downworlders or the shadowhunters or whatever he actually was. He had always known that it wouldn't last.

And that just dug up more questions. What was he really? He couldn't consider himself a downworlder; he didn't harbour their strengths or their ability. He'd never be a shadowhunter, not with fumbling fingers and his clumsy, careless feet. He didn't have it in him.

So what did that leave him with? Life as a mundane?

No. He was in far too deep for that.

The obvious solution was never even sticking a toe in the underworlds in the first place. And he wouldn't have, had he known the repercussions at the time.

He mentally slapped himself. What was he thinking? He never could have avoided the Downworld, never could have run from it. The very fact that he could see them meant that he was destined to live with it. He had no choice. It was alive in his blood, written under his skin and carved into his bones. He could never escape it.

Just like he couldn't have escaped Jace knocking on his door. He had known that it would come eventually or at least something like it. Some sort of sign or messenger come to let him know that it was time to choose.

But thing was, he didn't even know if he was right for any world. He was too ordinary for Downworld, not _ordinary enough_ for the mundane world and too, well, too much _himself _for the shadowhunters.

Sometimes he thought that he must have been an accident. Just a defect or fault in the fabric of everything. Some big cosmic mistake. Nobody could intentionally be so... misplaced. So unfitting for the universe.

There was a soft knock on the door, and, without waiting for a reply, it opened with a soft click. Annabelle slipped through the slightly ajar door. She closed the door quietly behind her, even though it was only about six thirty in the afternoon. The sun was only begin to settle on the horizon, the big, round ball fire sending a warm blanket of glaring orange through his bedroom window.

Anny paused by the door, looking at him thoughtfully. He hated it when she looked at him like that, like she knew more about him than he knew about himself. This, by the way, was probably true.

"Hi." She said.

"Hi."

Then she slugged over to his bed, dragging her feet in her typical lazy fashion. She dropped onto his bed next to him, curling onto her side. He shifted onto his side to get a better look at her face.

"You have that look." She pointed out. "You know the one you get when you're thinking way too hard about something?"

He chuckled but otherwise remained silent. He was afraid that if he actually spoke than she would just see into his thoughts and his mind and his insecurities, and he would lose all his resolve. And the effort he'd put into keeping his worries a secret would be for nothing. It would all be for nothing.

Luckily, she either forgot that she was expecting an answer, or just decided to let it go, because she didn't say another word. Simple stared at something on the wall behind his head, staying silent.

That was something he did love about Anny. She knew when matters were best left untouched.

They stayed like that for a while, and Dexter watched out the window as the sun sunk lower and lower into the sky.

It was when the fiery orb was half hidden behind the trees of the neighbourhood that Annabelle spoke.

"Dexter?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you not like them? Clary and Jace and the others, I mean."

"What? Why wouldn't I like them?"

"Well, you don't like a lot of people. It's hard to tell sometimes."

Dexter let out a disgruntled sound, unappeased with this thought. Did he really seem that unpleasant?

"No Annabelle." He pronounced her name very carefully, like speaking with a child and she rolled her eyes. "I don't not like them." He shrugged.

"Their great, I guess." It wasn't a lie.

They all seemed reasonably pleasant, friendly even. Although they did carry around that air of superiority that all shadowhunters seemed to hold. It wasn't their fault. They were just raised to think they were better. And it wasn't like he wasn't used that.

Anny closed her eyes once again and they were silent for a while more as the orange haze left the sky and was replaced by the dusty gray-blue of dusk. After about half an hour Dexter could feel Anny's breath grow steady on the mattress beside him, and he could see she was asleep.

He sighed, turning onto his back again and fumbling under the pillow, pulling out his iPod and earphones. He put the earphones in his ears, and pressed play. He turned the volume up, as high as he could without disturbing Anny, and tried in vain to drown out the constant, ever present jumble of thoughts spinning around in his head.

**Ta da! I thought you guys might want a little insight into what Dexter was feeling.**

**Sorry if it got a bit confusing. I was trying to show how he was feeling, but I fear it was done badly.**

**You have to understand that I don't want Dexter to be like what people would expect him to be. I constantly see these stories with these OC's and they're all confident and kinda boring (this isn't aimed at anyone in particular okay? No offence is intended) and they all seem the same. They are all pretty and graceful and so **_**unreal. **_**No offence intended but I don't want my OC's to be so ordinary. I want them to have character. I want them to seem real. **

**The point is that I take it seriously.**

**Also, can I just ask something? Does anybody else hate it when people use awful grammar and spelling in fanfics and then are just like; "Oh it's just fanfiction."**

**I'm sorry but no. No way. I don't care if it's a freaking note passed to your best friend in geology; that is just not right. Words are such **_**beautiful**_** things. I mean, they can express feelings that can never be put in a picture and they can create fantastical worlds. They turn imagination into something physical and **_**real**_**. They deserve better than that. I mean God; just have some respect for the English language will you?**

**Ugh, sorry about that rant. You guys don't care about that kind of thing.**

**I'll be updating as soon as I can.**

**Love,  
Beth.**


	16. I've Yet To Take The Hint PART ONE

**Hi,**

**Okay, so I know this is really short, but I'm suffering serious writers block. I'm not even just saying that to get out of admitting that I was procrastinating. This was very hard to write, and It's not even that long or complicated. It took me about three hours, and two failed starts.  
That's not to say that procrastination didn't have anything to do with it. I get distracted very easily. I went to start this on Monday, and then I got distracted with blogging and watching Toddlers And Tiaras and tweeting about my new deodorant with my friend Lauren.  
And then I discovered this AMAZING band who write songs about Doctor Who. They're fantastic. They're called Chameleon Circuit and I'll put a link on my profile for anyone who's interested.**

**Also! I wrote two new one-shots to see if I could get out of my funk. It didn't work, but they're called Jolene and These Forgotten Melodies. Nobody reviewed for Jolene, which is a shame because I liked it, but it was a Kaelie POV one shot, and it was a bit different. Guess nobody read it or nobody liked it. Anyhow, check them out (and I'd like it if somebody would review Jolene for me *puppy dog eyes lol wtf I never look cute forget that*)**

**Disclaimer: No, I'm not Cassie Clare, unfortunately.**

Dexter swivelled absent mindedly in the beaten up office chair as he listened to the door of the book store chime open. He was instantly grateful that he had been put on stock duty that morning. It was comfortable, sitting on the out of place chair, far back at the end of one of the many isles of books. People often didn't travel back that far, and he was left to count and alphabetize in peace.

He'd landed the job almost six months ago, just after Christmas break. The work was very involved at times; you had to be precise, otherwise stock got miscounted and cost the shop more money, but generally it was very medial work. His wage was somewhat pathetic, and he often, found himself working overtime for no extra pay. But he needed the money, and it was just as good as working at a restaurant or a fast food outlet, so he took it as soon as it was offered.

Now he sat cross legged in the very back of the Science Fiction isle, sorting through a stack of brand new copies of H.G Wells' _The Time Machine _in his lap. He creased his brow in concentration as he glanced at labels and scanned barcodes while struggling to keep his glasses from falling off his face. It was stuffy and hot inside the store and beads of sweat kept forming and reforming on his brow, every time he wiped them away. He was so highly absorbed in the work that he didn't even notice the arms on the watch that was wrapped around his left wrist tick past four pm, and past the end of his shift.

It was around four thirty in the afternoon when one of the paper backs in his lap slid from his grasp and landed with a soft thud on the floor. He reached down to pick it up, and his glasses slipped from his head, bouncing on the blue-green wool carpet. He cursed himself and stepped forward to pick them up, but instead somehow kicking them further along the floor, under the book case.

Dexter huffed in annoyance and ran a hand through his thick hair, causing it to sit even messier around his head. He got down on both knees, and then onto his stomach, reaching under the book case. Everything was blurry when he peered underneath. The case was a gold mine, and he pulled out several random items like pens, pieces of jewellery and hairpins before he finally felt his hand press against the thin wire frames.

"What's keeping you here?"

The voice in his ear made him jump up and back out from under the book case so quickly that he almost pulled his arm out of its socket. With his arm throbbing and his heart racing, he whipped his head around, finding no one behind him or close to him at all. A figure standing at the end of the isle caught his eye. It was hard to make out any distinct features, everything was blurred and out of focus and it was standing at least twenty feet away, but he could tell that it was tall and definitely male. He could barely make out a shock of white hair and dark eyes. They stayed like that for at least ten seconds, just staring at each other. He couldn't be positive, but he could have sworn he saw the man smiling. And then Dexter blinked, and the man was gone, disappeared into thin air.

It was almost like he hadn't been there at all.

Five minutes later Dexter pushed his way through the doors to the bookstore, out onto the street. It was even warmer outside then it was inside, like stepping from a sauna into an oven. He tugged uncomfortably at his jeans and was almost glad that Jace had asked if tonight he would speak to him and an official from the Council, They wanted to ask him a bunch of questions or something. He wasn't very keen on speaking to a Council member. He had encountered a Clave official, back before Valentines battle. He hadn't liked her at all; she reminded him of social workers, her cold, hard stare, greying hair and stiff, black shadowhunter gear. He had been sixteen at the time, standing by himself at the counter of a downworlder diner, waiting for his coffee. He and Annabelle had been regulars at the diner for almost a year at that time, but he hated to go in alone. When he was with Annabelle, it was like they could blend in and carry on unnoticed. But when he was by himself, he felt as if people were watching every move he made. The Clave official had been sitting two table away from him, but he could still hear snippets of the conversation she was having with the slim, purple skinned nixie seated across the table from her; _"...I'm sorry but that's just not acceptable...Imogene Herondale...No, no that won't... Clave law... The inquisitor..."_

Dexter pushed the memory from his head and glanced over his shoulder for the fourth time since he had left the store. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed, watched. He could still feel hot breath on the back of his neck; still hear those words ringing in his head.

_What's keeping you here?_

What did they mean? And who was he?

He tried to ignore it, the tingling feeling running down his spine. He tried to tell himself that he was overreacting, that nobody was watching him. But he didn't believe himself.

He finally arrived at the cafe that Jace had told Dexter to meet him at. It was a mundane place, which had surprised Dexter at first, but the cafe was small and private, so it did make sense.

He let out a breathe he hadn't realised he'd been holding, and with one last glance back over his shoulder, he went inside.

**Okay, I'm sorry about how short that was. I'm going to make it Part One of two part chapter.]**

**Can I ask you guys a serious question? And I need a serious, fully honest answer. **

**What do you guys think of my writing? I mean, I know I'm not the greatest writer ever, I have no illusions about that, but I've always thought that I might be okay to somewhat good? Can you let me know in a review or a PM? Do you think I'm horrible, bad, okay, somewhat good, great, fantastic? And I really need honesty, don't worry about my feelings. Pretend I am a tree, and I have no emotions. Unless you're one of those tree hugging hipsters, then pretend I'm a rock.**

**Anyhow, please review and let me know what you think of the story so far! Do you think I'm going too slowly? Do you think I get the characters okay? ANYTHING! Constructive criticism is welcomed, flames are shunned.**

**Love you all,  
Beth.**


	17. Authors Note SORRY

**Okay so I know what you're thinking "What's this? Another AN? Lol I hate you now." **

**But it's going to be short. Promise. **

**Okay so I just wanted to let you know that I start school in actually less than 12 hours, and it's going to be really hard for me to update. I have exams this term as well, which is gonna make it harder. I know, I know, I don't update regularly anyway, so why am I telling you this. **

**I just wanted to say sorry that I'm such an awful author, and that I'm sorry I'm so inconsistent with updating. Also, I'm sorry this story has hit a bit of a boring spot, and I'll try to make it more exciting in future chapters, but I'm just not good at big plotlines you know? I'm good at one shots and fluff and really, really sad chapters. I'm not good at long plotlines, but I'll try harder. Sorry.**

**And with that, I bid you farewell. Hopefully I'll have pt 2 of I've Yet To Take The Hint up sometime this week. **


	18. I've Yet To Take The Hint PART TWO

**TA DAA!**

**YAY. ANOTHER UPDATE! Are you guys as excited as I am? Probably not, but still. **

**Anywho, I think I'm getting out of my funk. This was certainly easier to write than pt 1, so I hope it's better to read. Not the most interesting of chapters, but next chapters a bit more fun, so thats something to look forward to.**

**ENJOY!**

**Disclaimer: Wait, hold on, lemme check. *runs to mirror* Oh, oh! Wait, no. False alarm. Still not Cassie Clare *hold back tears***

Jace was sitting in a small booth at the back of the cafe with Luke by his side, twirling a sugar packet in between his fingers. The place was deserted apart from them, a bored looking teenage girl at the register and a woman in a royal blue business suit, reading a newspaper.

He heard the door open, and in came Dexter. He was wearing a faded red tee shirt and bluey gray jeans. His eyes were wide and he looked flustered. Kept looking over his shoulder. His eyes met Jace's and he made his way around the cluster of small round tables until he reached the booth. Luke looked up then and stood up with a start.

"Dexter Fletcher? Hi. Luke Garraway, I'm from the Council?" It sounded more like a question, and Luke extended his hand.

"Hi,." Dexter took his hand and shook it. "Sorry I'm late. Lost track of time." He slid down into the booth next to Jace, taking his wallet and phone out of his back pocket and placed them on the table in front of him.

"Can I get you something to drink? Coffee?" Luke offered.

"Nah, I'm fine thanks" He looked edgy and uncomfortable, but Jace couldn't tell whether that was because of the heat, talking to Luke, or something.

Once the Council had been fully informed of Dexter's existence, they had wanted to send the Inquisitor down to San Francisco to talk to him. Being the paranoid bastards they are, the Council had been suspicious of how connected the boy was with Valentine, and wanted to come down on him hard. When Jace had arrived back at the Institute in New York, he found Luke, Maryse and the new Inquisitor, Samuel Darklock arguing in the conference room. Darklock was on him like a vulture with questions and inquiries of his stay in California.

Jace had hated the thought of Dexter going through what he had with Imogene Herondale. He knew Dexter knew nothing, and the Council would be wasting their time interrogating him. So he, Luke and Maryse had fought the Inquisitor for hours until he finally relented and agreed to let Luke question him. Jace wasn't happy about it, but at least Luke would be fair.

The next hour and a half was spent by Luke firing question after question at Dexter abiout his experiences with non-mundane folk.

"Have you ever hired a warlock for their services?"

"No. Too expensive, even if I needed it"

"Have you ever participated in vampire gambling rings?'

"Too stupid."

When they were done Luke looked exhausted and Dexter just looked bored. Jace hadn't said much, he had drifted off after about twenty minutes. Luke started to stand up.

"Well kids, I have to be going. I'm needed back in Idris." Both Dexter and Jace stood up at the same time.

When they were outside the cafe, Luke and Jace did a sort of man-hug thing. He had never really been sure what they were supposed to be called. Luke turned to Dexter and shook his hand, then put his hand on his shoulder.

"It's been good to finally meet you." Dexter smiled.

'Yeah, you too." Luke stood back.

"I'm just sorry it had to be so formal." Then to Jace, "I'll see you soon."

"Bye Luke." Jace said. And then the older man turned around and set off down the street, leaving Jace and Dexter standing in his wake.

"So," Dexter started, "What are you doing now."

Jace thought for a moment. "I don't know. I guess I'll just take a portal back to New York."

At that, Dexter cocked his head to the side, intrigued. "So portals actually exist huh?'

"Uh yeah." Jace said in a 'duh' tone. "What rock have you been living under?"

The dark haired boy rolled his eyes. "Well sorry, but I haven't exactly been in the loop, you know." He laughed softly. "I have heard of portals; I just haven't seen one, or used one. So I didn't know if they existed or not."

"Well maybe I'll show you one, one day. And I may even let you use it."

"Oh wow thanks."

"You don't sound enthusiastic?"

"You don't sound serious."

Now it was Jace's turn to roll his eyes. Dexter suppressed a grin.

"Well, you don't have to go back to New York right away."

"Oh don't I?" Jace raised an eyebrow.

"Not if you don't want to." Dexter shrugged. "You can stay the night here. Anny and I'll show you a couple of good spots."

"Whatever," He paused, "Can I bring Clary? She'll be pissed if I don't invite her."

Dexter grinned, "As you wish." He started down the path. "C'mon. The house isn't far from here; you can use our landline to call Clary."

And they started walking down the street, an odd pair to anyone who saw them, but didn't know them.

Hey didn't match each other. Jace strutted along, chin tipped up, shoulders back. He walked proud and straight, his blonde hair glinting on the sun. Dexter, however, blended in more. He wasn't as all as Jace, short by only an inch or two. But it made a big difference. His long, thick hair fell in front of his eyes as he walked down the street next to Jace, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched.

As they walked, Jace thought about how little he knew of Dexter. He didn't know where he worked, who his family was, nothing. But there was a weird connection between them, something that intrigued him, made him want to know more. It also made him feel somewhat protective of him. He told himself how ridiculous that was, but the other boy seemed so... defenceless. He had no training whatsoever, and little to no knowledge of demons. Anything could jump out at him at any moment, and the kid wouldn't know how to deal with it.

_But what does he really need protection from?_

And there was that voice again; the voice in the back of his head that always reasoning with him, making him think realistically. But Jace felt eerie, like the calm before the storm. He couldn't shake the feeling that something big was about to happen, to the both of them.

He just didn't know what yet.

**So what do you guys think?**

**Jace is feeling protective, awwww. AND SEBASTIAN/JONOTHANS BACK! :O *gasp* (that was last chapter, but still)**

**Oh, oops, if you hadn't already guessed that Sebastian is back :/**

**Anyways, every time you don't review, Pikachu cries. Don't make Pikachu sad.**

**R&R!**

**Love,**

**Beth.**


	19. CHP19 1 Memories Never Seem To Fade

**Okay so this is long overdue, and I'm really sorry about that but I've had mountains of work to do for exams and then heaps of Christmas stuff, and I only had time to update one story (Keep Listening). **

**So Sorry! I really am! I hope you enjoy this, it's kinda short and not very good but I've been having a lot of problems with this fic, so bear with me. **

**DISCLAMER: Don't own it. Nope. **

**Enjoy!**

By seven o clock, the stifling summer heat had settled and they were left sitting in a slightly stuffy, still, warm breeze. The sun was setting on the horizon, its mandatory vibrant colours streaming through the dusty kitchen window.

Jace could hear the sound of a hairdryer blowing in the background, intermingled with the low twang of a guitar and a smooth, bluesy voice projected from the square dock that never actually seemed to be turned off. Across from him sat Scott, whom he'd only ever met once on the day he'd first come to the shared house.

He was a very short boy, but stocky and brawny looking. His curly blonde hair had been cut shorter in the week since he had met him, clearly displaying his dark brown eyes. He was staring at Jace, a small amount of disdain apparent in his features, and Jace, while wondering what on earth he could have done to offend the boy, stared straight back, planting a smug smirk on his face.

The doorbell rang then, and Jace could honestly say that he was just happy for the excuse to look away, bored of the senseless staring competition. Dexter, who had been sitting cross legged on the Island reading a more current edition of _Woman's Weekly, _slid his feet to the floor and trudged through the doorway. Jace got to his feet and winked at Scott, leaving the small blonde boy fuming after him.

XXX

Dexter blinked, a little surprised at the unexpectedly large group of teenagers at his doorstep.

"Hello." He said, a bit uncertainly. Clary looked up at him, seemingly anxious.

"I'm sorry," She said apologetically, "They saw me getting ready to portal over here, and they wanted to come. I couldn't get them to let it go." He looked past Clary at the small mob. There was a tall, raven haired girl who he recognized from last week (Isabella? Isabelle?) , and a pale, lanky boy with a shock of dark brown hair. Odd, Dexter could have sworn he knew the boy's face from somewhere; he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Looking back at Clary, Dexter smiled.

"Not to worry. More the merrier, right?" At that moment, Dexter felt someone push their way beside him to stand in the door frame.

"Hey," Jace greeted his girlfriend cheerily, leaning down and kissing her lightly on her cheek. The redheaded girl blushed furiously, bright red spilling into her pale, freckled cheeks.

"Jace," She hissed, "Not now." The blonde boy smirked and wrapped a hand around her thin wrist, pulling her off the porch, into the house. The dark haired girl followed them, giving Dexter no more than a sideways smirk, strutting past him into the hallway. He watched them walk down the hallway. Jace said something to the Isabella-Isabelle girl, and she laughed.

Dexter turned back to the boy in front of him. He was a funny looking thing, he thought, with his deathly pale skin and brown eyes that almost seemed too big to his face. His hair was shaggy and longish, cut into no particular style, but appeared to have been brushed thoroughly, wispy strands of coffee colour flying waywardly into the air.

"I know you." Dexter said bluntly. The younger boy blinked.

"Well, I'm pretty sure I haven't met you." He smiled sheepishly. "I'm Simon. I, uh, I'm Clary's friend. Im also Isabelle's, uh, boyfr-" Dexter wasn't listening.

"I could've sworn I've met you somewhere before." He frowned at him. "Have you ever been to Chicago?"

"No."

"Huh."

They stood awkwardly, unable to think of what to say next.

"Well, I guess you'd better come in."

Dexter held the door open for the dark haired boy, Simon, and they walked through into the kitchen.

Jace had taken a seat next to a very pissed looking Scott, who was sending Jace daggers from behind the can of beer he'd been nursing all afternoon. Dexter brushed this off as nothing. Scott was an alpha male, very territorial. He was always like this around new comers. Clary was seated casually on Jace's lap, laughing at something someone had said.

Simon shuffled to stand beside Isabelle/Isabella, who had settled herself on a stool at the island, already chatting animatedly with Mel, who appeared to have emerged from her bedroom, fully done up, fully dressed. She was wearing a loose chiffon shirt over a dotted tank top and a pair of low slung jeans. It was at that moment when the screen door leading onto the backyard slammed open with such force, knocking over a pile of magazines stacked precariously next to the door and causing the recently sleeping Audrey to jump from her resting space, barking madly at the figure emerging from the doorway. Dexter didn't even have to look up to figure out who was there.

"Hello, my precious buttercups," The tall ginger greeted them loudly, stumbling into the kitchen. "And how are we all doing this fine evening?"

Dexter had known Sam since eighth grade, and he was possibly the only person in the entire world who was clumsier than Dexter was. Although, Dexter often thought this was partly because while he made a conscious effort to not knock over everything he passed, while Sam went into things blindly, without a care in the world.

"Oh, and hello to you too, Dexter." Sam addressed him separately, helping himself to one of the various cans of drink in the fridge.

Dexter leaned against the doorway, grinning.

"Am I not one of your precious buttercups?" The sandy haired boy took a gulp of drink, and sniffed at him.

"I'm still angry with you about Tuesday, so no. No you're not." He turned towards the Island, apparently haven taken notice of the four strangers. "And neither are you. Who are you?" He addressed them quizzically.

Dexter waved his hand nonchalantly, "This is Clary, Jace and..." He grasped for the name of the raven haired girl, clicking his fingers as he racked his brain. Names weren't exactly his strong point.

"Isabelle." She filled in for him. He clapped his hands together once in triumph.

"Isabelle! I knew that. Oh, and Simon. And," He said to the four of them, "This," He indicated to his friend, "is Sam. Say hello Sam."

"Hello," Said Sam.

Clary twisted around on Jace's lap.

"I hate to ask," she grinned, eyeing him curiously, "But what happened Tuesday?"

"I beat him in Mario Kart." Dexter explained.

"Well, that's not that bad."

"No, you don't understand," Sam exclaimed wildly, taking a seat on the island, "Not only did he beat me; he beat my high score too; the high score. Of the entire game."

"He didn't." Simon seemed to be the only one in the room to understand the apparent atrocity of the act.

Sam nodded grimly, "He did. Do you guys know how long I kept that high score? A year. An entire year. That's the longest I've e ever kept anything." Both Simon and Sam turned and glared Dexter, who snorted.

"Sore loser."

It was at that moment when Annabelle walked in through the back door, the same way Sam had come. Dexter could tell without a second glance that she was pissed; really pissed.

Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, strands of dark blonde escaping the elastic band. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyebrows were knitted together. Her hands, which were clenched in angry fists, gripping the bottom of the black apron she wore when working at the restaurant, had basically had the nails bitten off of them. He knew immediately what was wrong.

Annabelle paused in the doorway, surveying the crowd of young adults gathered in the kitchen.

"Hi," she said hastily. Then she glanced at him, holding up a hand in a sign to stop.

"Don't." She told him. "Just don't saying anything."

"I wasn't going to."

Without replying, she brushed past him into the hallway. It was only when her footsteps disappeared up the stairs that anyone spoke. It was Simon.

"So," He started. "Who peed in her cheerio's?"

It was Sam that answered.

"She's been talking to her sister again."

"That's a bad thing?" Clary asked, a mix of curiosity and concern laced into her voice

"It is for Anny."

Both Dexter and Sam had known Annabelle long enough to recognize the symptoms of a post-sister-phone-call. He had never fully understood why, but Annabelle and Brie had never gotten along. From as far back as he could remember to this very day they hadn't been able to stand each other. The way he saw it was that they were two conflicting personalities, and not in a good "opposites attract" way. They simply could not live together.

Thirty minutes later, Annabelle appeared in the kitchen again, having changed clothes and brightened her mood considerably. By this time the conversation had switched themes, the topic of Annabelle's family life long and forgotten, just the way she liked it.

She stopped behind the chair Dexter had claimed by the table and he tipped his head back to see her, peering through the thick tangled mess hanging in his eyes. She was frowning at something across the room from them. Following her line of vision, his gaze landed on the pallid, almost sickly looking Simon, whom Dexter had discovered in the past thirty minutes was a vampire. At first, Dexter had found this odd, considering that vampires were supposed to burn up in the sun. But then he'd remembered the story Jace and Clary had told him last week, and it made sense.

Annabelle must not have noticed Simon when she'd first walked into the kitchen, because now she was staring at him with a troubled expression, not unlike one of someone who was trying to figure out the last few words of a crossword puzzle, but just couldn't grasp the answer.

"You alright?" He asked her. The people around them carried on talking, seemingly oblivious of the two's discussion.

She frowned again, and bit her lip. Then, out of the blue, a look of sudden realization jumped into her expression. Her arm flew out to the side instinctively, hitting Dexter's shoulder. She gripped it lightly and shook him, as if she didn't already have his entire attention.

"Arizona." She said excitedly and gestured with her other hand to the vampire boy, who, seeing the commotion, looked up at them.

"Arizona!" She repeated.

"I don't get it," He peered at her quizzically, trying to pry her fingers from his shoulder, "What about Arizona?"

"Dexter," She released her grip on his arm, only to use the same hand to jab him hard in his bicep, "It's the napkin guy!"

"Napkin guy?" Dexter said at the same time that Simon exclaimed in realisation;

"Batman girl?"

**Ugh, I'm so sorry!**

**I promise there will be good stuff ASAP. Although I'm going away for a while this January so I might not be able to update (apart from part two of this chappie. Did I mention two parts? No? Well, there's two parts!) until sometime in February. **

**I'm sorry guys, I've been slack, but I'm trying hard to get back on track. It's been a hectic few months.**

**I'll have part two up by tomorrow. **

**Love you guys! Review? Get me motivated, please?**

**Love, Beth. **


	20. CHP19 2 Don't Let This Memory Fade Away

**Hello again! So, part two, eh? You guys excited? No? Really? You sure? **

**Okay...**

**Anyhow, here you go. Read and enjoy. **

**DISCLAIMER: I'm more likely to walk in on Santa Clause than I am to ever own the Mortal Instruments. **

**(See what I did there? Christmas themed Disclaimer.)**

**ENJOY**

Clary frowned at the scene playing out in front of her, unsure as to what exactly was going on. How did Simon and Annabelle know each other? And why was she referring to him as Napkin guy?

Jace seemed to read her mind, being the only one to finally say something.

"Wait," He leaned forward in his chair, "You two know each other?"

Annabelle shrugged, "Kinda. And Dexter knows him too." She motioned towards the dark haired boy, who stared blankly at his friend.

"I do? From where?"

"Clary," Simon started, ignoring Dexter, "Do you remember that summer when Eric and I took that trip over to Phoenix for my cousin's wedding? It was the summer you turned fourteen?"

Clary scowled, "Yeah I remember. You took Eric instead of me. I had to spend the whole summer moving furniture and painting walls for Old Mrs Sonya across the road." She shuddered at the memory of the old woman's apartment. It always smelt like baking grease. "I hate Mrs Sonya."

"You can't exactly blame me for that," he protested, "It's not my fault your mom wouldn't let you go."

"So," Isabelle spoke up for the first time, "What exactly happened?"

Simon started, "My mom was busy at the rehearsal dinner, and me and Eric had overheard at one of the local record dealers about this sort of underground concert..."

_*Start Flashback* _

"_Eric," Simon muttered nervously, pulling at the hem of his Star Wars tee shirt, "They're not going to let us in."_

"_What makes you say that," Eric said distractedly, eyeing a pair of blonde girls in too small band tee shirts. Simon gritted his teeth in annoyance. _

"_I don't know Eric, maybe it has something to do with the fact that NEITHER OF US COULD PASS FOR EIGHTEEN IN A MILLION YEARS?"_

"_Simon, chill out. They're always really slack at this type of gig anyways. The whole thing isn't even entirely legal."_

_This did not help Simon. If anything, it made him feel more nervous. Simon was not the type of person who took risks or snuck out of the hotel room- after promising his mother he'd stay -put to go to a not-entirely-legal event. It just wasn't the type of thing he did. Simon was more of a stay-home-and-play-Mario-Kart type of kid. _

_Yet here he was, lining up with several other teenagers-some of whom smelt of pot and liquor- to get into said not-entirely-legal-event. He felt out of place here, with all these people who were so different to him and the people he hung out with usually. Even Eric fit into this scene more; he already looked the part with the blonde streaks in his dark hair, black clothing and doped out expression. Although, when Simon thought about it, if they had come here three months earlier, Eric would have stuck out as much as Simon did now. A week or so before finals, Eric had approached him with the idea of starting a band –"chicks dig band dudes"- and had since devoted himself to finding the appropriate style. _

_When they finally reached the door, the guy took one look at them smirked, but, after taking their entry fee of three dollars, grabbed hold of each of their wrists and brought the blue, star shaped stamp down on their skin. Eric was off into the crowd before Simon could blink, and he was about to follow him when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning back, he saw the face of the broad shouldered, olive skinned bouncer. _

"_Listen kid," His accent sounded faintly as if he were from Queens, "I'm letting you in, but if I see you with a drop of anything nasty on you I'll throw you and your little friend out on your asses before you know it." The bouncer let go of his shoulder and turned back to the next person in line. _

_Simon shuddered slightly and pushed his way in to pushed his way into the crowd, scanning the mob for any sign of his friend. _

_Now that he was in the crowd, mixed in amongst everyone else, Simon didn't feel so obvious anymore. While most of the kids around him were obviously older, Simon was tall enough – 5'9- to pass as a skinnier, more baby faced version of them. In the line Simon had been unable to see anything but piercings and tattoos and dyed hair, but now that he was in the building – a beautiful old half abandoned theatre- he realised that that was either coincidence or God making fun of him. Half of the kids there were covered in tattoos and piercings but the other half seemed to be normal enough, wearing normal clothes and normal smiles. In fact, they all seemed to be no more than two to four years older than he was. Scott was right; these places were very slack indeed._

_So Simon relaxed – even though he knew it was wrong to judge people by the way they looked or dressed, he couldn't help but feel intimidated by the more alternative of the two groups of teenagers. _

_He scanned over the heads of the crowds, standing on the tips of his toes to see around the theatre. On the old, wooden stage the band finished sound checks, and suddenly there was a clash of drums, guitars and then silence as people started shifting and muttering excitedly to their friends. Many moved closer to the stage, others stayed where they were. Then, so quickly it took Simon by surprise, the guitars began roughly, loudly, strumming out a melody. And then the bass joined in, quickly followed by the drums and lead vocals as the band launched into the first verse of what sounded to Simon like a modern take on an old Nirvana song. And then people were dancing, swaying to the music, jumping up and down all around him. The room was vibrating and he could feel the beat of the mosher's feet on the old theatre floor and the drums pulsing in his chest. _

_The atmosphere was almost enough to make Simon forget his search and join in with the rest of them- and he wanted so badly to do so. But he had to find Eric and make sure he hadn't hooked up with some random girl- not likely- or gotten into a fight with someone purely for the fun of it – more likely. _

_He moved closer to the back of the room, where the crowd thinned out, and searched for Eric's head amongst hundreds of others. He was so involved in doing so that he didn't notice himself heading fast, straight towards a girl in a batman tee shirt until it was too late. _

"_Oh shit" The girl spluttered as rivulets of coke ran down her neck and arms, the liquid dripping from the hem of her shirt. _

"_Oh my God," Simon stuttered, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking were I was going. Here," He reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a wad of folded up napkins. She smiled at him and took the napkins gratefully. _

_Looking at her properly, Simon felt himself begin to blush. She reminded him of Clary in a way, but he suspected it was mainly the eyes and her height. She couldn't have been more than a year or two older than he was; her face still held that round youthfulness that most teenagers kept until their late teens. She had long dark blonde hair that fell in loose curls over her shoulders, and as well as the Batman shirt, she wore black jeans and worn out, plaid converse. She was pretty, he thought, very pretty indeed._

Oh my God, _he thought, _I just made a very pretty girl spill her drink all over her awesome tee shirt.

I'm such an idiot.

_The girl, however, did not seem at all offended by his actions. Still smiling at him, she shouted over the noise,_

"_That's okay! I didn't like this shirt anyway!"_

"_What?" Simon was horrified, "Please tell me you're joking." She smiled sheepishly._

"_I am. I actually love this shirt; my best friend just gave it to me for my birthday. I just didn't want to make you feel bad."_

_This made Simon feel worse. He'd just made a very pretty (and totally sweet) girl spill her drink on her awesome tee shirt that her best friend just gave to her for her birthday. _

_It must have shown on his face, because then she said, _

"_Look, don't worry about it. You can buy me a drink to make up for it." She smiled at him wider, in what Simon knew was an attempt to make him feel better, and he noticed that she wore bracers. _

_Completely forgetting his search for Eric – if he gets himself dead or gonorrhoea it's his own fault- Simon grinned at the chance to redeem himself. _

_Ten minutes later, Simon and Batman girl were sitting at the back of the theatre on one of the chair- the kind with the seats that fold up automatically when you get off them. The theatre must, at one point, have been filled to the very front with the chairs. But over the years they had been ripped out by either whoever owned the theatre or the teenagers attending the gigs and shows there. Now they only reached one third quarter of the way down the floor. According to Batman girl - who lived elsewhere but had visited several times to see her grandparents- the old theatre had once been a majestic spot where high society ladies and gentlemen came to see plays and operas, but closed down sometime in the sixties, and was now a venue open to hosting local bands. It was supposed to be eighteen plus- the town board had only agreed not to knock it down on the terms that nobody without an ID could get in- But nobody ever checked. _

_On that particular night, the grimy old building had been decorated on the inside. Thousands of tiny white fairy lights adorned the walls and upper balcony – which was closed off to everybody- and the entire floor was covered with fine silver glitter. Strobe lights hooked up on the stage sent rays of neon coloured lights through the room, intermingling with the thick smoke that wafted around the crowds of people, bouncing off the many faces of the sliver disco ball that hung from the top balcony, vibrating and jumping with every beat blaring from the speakers. _

_Batman girl was in the middle of describing to Simon who the band where- Bunch of guys from Arizona State; apparently the drummer used to work at her grandpa's store- when they were interrupted by a guy hoping over the seat in front of them, sitting on the back of the seat facing them and placing one black high top clad foot on the arm of Batman girls chair, while the other hung in the space between the two rows. He couldn't have been any older then fifteen, with the faint rash of acne around his right temple and forehead and his dark brown hair, cut neatly above his ears- obviously a job done by his mother;. Simon's mother did the same with him. He was wearing dark jeans, rolled up once at the legs, a black Blink 182 tee shirt and black framed glasses. Bright red suspenders hung off his shoulders by his sides. _

"_Hey," He said to them- or to her, he couldn't tell. "Where'd you go? One minute your there, and then the next minute you've wondered off." Batman girl smiled lopsidedly at him. _

"_I was in a traffic accident, my shirt almost died. Then I got thirsty."_

"_Fair enough."_

"_I said I was sorry."_

"_And I forgave you," Batman girl said, resolutely. _

_The other frowned at the brown, now dry stain, which was actually quite subtle against the light grey of the shirt. "Baking soda should get that out easily."_

_She blinked at him. "Thanks."_

"_I bought you that shirt," The boy said. So this was the best friend she mentioned. _

"_I know. I was there when you gave it to me."_

"_With my hard earned money too. That stain better come out, or else you-" he turned towards Simon, "-owe me twenty dollars."_

_Batgirl snorted. "You're so stingy, Dexter." The boy – Dexter- shrugged, picking up her cup and taking a sip. _

"_I'm not stingy, I'm poor."He made a face, handing Batgirl back her cup in distaste. _

"_Not as poor as the kids in Africa, though." Simon put in. _

"_No. Not as poor as them. But pretty darn poor."_

"_We're all poor Dexter, but not all of us are as stingy as you."_

"_I'm saving up for something."_

"_What on earth could you be saving up for? You never seem to actually want anything, and you just download all your music anyway." Simon's mouth quirked up in one corner, amused by the conversation. They didn't seem to realise they were as stubborn as each other. Batgirl, set on getting him to admit the truth, and Dexter, committed to staying with his first word._

"_It's a secret?" Batgirl shook her head. _

"_Just admit that you're stingy. You can't lie to me, Dex; you know you're awful at this." _

"_That's not what you're mom was saying last night."_

"_Go fuck yourself." Dexter jumped off the back of the seat and backed out towards the crowd. _

"_Don't mind if I do." She displayed her middle finger clearly in his direction and he reciprocated the action cheerfully. _

_*End Flashback*_

"And that's the last time you saw him for the rest of the night."

"Huh," Jace clucked his tongue. "Small world."

Dexter chuckled to himself. "I remember that night." He sighed reminiscently, "Good times."

Clary's mouth twitched her curious mind desperate to ask the question sitting on top of it.

"Did you actually do it?" She asked Dexter , "You know, what Anny told you to do?"

He laughed, "No, no, not at all. I didn't start that type of thing until senior year."

Annabelle groaned, pressing her thumb into her right temple, as if trying to smother a headache, "Oh my God."

"I am so kidding. You have to stop taking me so seriously." Annabelle just chuckled and got out of the chair she was seated in.

"It's getting late; we should start off to Diana's before it gets too packed."

"Who's Diana?"

"What, not who. And you'll see."

Annabelle, Jace, Clary, Dexter, Isabelle, Simon and Sam all got up and headed towards the front door. Mel and Scott stayed behind, saying they'd meet up with them later. Dexter later told Jace that it meant they were going to, in his words, "Fuck on the couch and maybe, probably not, see us for seven seconds later on in the night before they go and disappear off with someone else." Mel and Scott, apparently, had an on and off again relationship, that usually ended –once every few months- with Mel eating all the ice cream in the fridge and watching Grays Anatomy reruns for 24 hours straight, and Scott taking Dexter's car and disappearing to God knows where, only to reappear three days later with four empty bottles of Jack Daniels and a new tattoo.

"That was an awful "Your mom" joke, by the way," Jace said to Dexter as the group piled into his car. They had to fit four in the back, so Clary and Annabelle, being the smallest, shared a seatbelt.

"I know. It wasn't my best."

"Dexter went through a stage when we were fifteen when he would just like try and offend me by claiming to be having sexual intercourse with my mother. " Annabelle explained to them. "It was rather juvenile."

"And so five years ago." Isabelle added in. Dexter turned the keys in the ignition, the old Toyota thrumming into life.

"It _was_ five years ago. So technically, I was right in with the times."

Annabelle ignored him.

"And besides," She went on, "We all know that Dexter wasn't having intercourse with anybody, let alone my mom. Still isn't." She teased. He waved his hand in the air nonchalantly.

"Oh shush."

They drove on, Simon, Isabelle, Dexter and Anny arguing about whether "Your mom" puns were ever tasteful to begin with and Sam fiddling with the radio.

Clary lay back in her chair, and caught Jace's eyes in the rear-view mirror, grinning. She could only see his eyes, but she could tell by the way the muscles under his bottom eyelids pulled up that he was smiling too.

**So, what do you think?**

**I know this story is going really slow, but I'll try and put some excitement in, probably next chapter? And some Clace fluff somewhere in the next couple of chapters. **

**BT dubs, it's Christmas... today actually (it's 12:34on Christmas morning. Am I dedicated or what?) And then next week I'm going on holidays for a week, then I come back for a week but it's my cousins wedding, and then I go away basically until school starts in February. So, as you can see, I'm pretty busy for the rest of the summer. I'll try and have a chapter up sometime in February, for both this and Keep Listening, so watch out for it. **

**Thanks a million, please R&R. **

**Love Beth. **


	21. One More Long Night

**Hey guys! I'm back (miss me?)**

**Anyhow, I wrote a new chapter. Which is pretty damn impressive, considering we're in the middle of a heatwave. **

**Okay, so I guess, onto the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own it. (Too lazy to make up something funny)**

It was almost three in the morning, and the bar was completely deserted, save the seven of them and Diana –named after her mother- the 20 something year old who ran Diana's. It was a modernized Jazz bar, deep in the city, tucked inbetween a tattoo parlour and what looked like a 20th Century opium den.

The room was large and rectangular with a bar on the front wall, a stage in the back, left hand corner and booths lining almost every other available wall space. The entire place was a mixture of dark, honey toned woods and azure walls, riddled with old posters. Right at that moment, as was previously mentioned, it was almost empty, but up until about an hour or so ago it had been filled to the brim with people of all different ages. The stage had been occupied by two young saxophone players and a middle aged woman on the bass guitar, and the room had been encompassed by the sound of laughter and music and the smell of cigarette smoke.

"What on earth are they doing?" Now, Clary and Annabelle, who were all seated in a booth off to the side, turned to see what Isabelle seemed so surprised about, and what she did see was definitely worthy of the raven haired girl's reaction.

Somebody had put a Katy Perry mix tape in an old stereo on the bar, and it was currently blasting "Teenage Dream" through the room. There, in the middle of the floor was Jace, Sam, Simon and Dexter, dancing in the most ridiculous style she had ever seen in her life. And that was saying something, considering that she had seen Luke freestyle at her mother's wedding.

Clary laughed and watched as the group of teenage boys –who may or may not have had a tad too much to drink- jumped up and down in time to the music and demonstrated a series of incredibly lame and extremely outdated dance moves, including "The Sprinkler" and "The Dougie".

"Is this something they do often?" Clary pondered as Dexter and Sam performed a nicely synchronized- and surprisingly well orchestrated- "moon walk".

"Dexter doesn't do it often." Anny explained, chewing on a straw, "Only when he's drunk. Sam, however, does it on a regular basis. In fact," She looked towards the group wistfully and smiled, "This reminds me very much of my senior prom."

Izzy laughed, "Really?"

"Yeah. He can be quite flamboyant. I think its part of his whole gay pride thing." Clary looked up curiously as the CD clicked to the next track, and they were blasted with "Last Friday Night".

"Sam's gay?" The blonde girl shrugged.

"Bisexual, whatever, same difference." Isabelle glanced at the two dancing friends, then back at Annabelle.

"Does Dexter have a problem with it?" The older girl looked surprised.

"No. Why would he?"

"Why would anyone?"

"Good point." She shrugged again, "I don't think it's really a big deal to him, you know? Dexter doesn't really think about these types of things a lot; like, to Dexter, it's just another part of Sam, like the fact that he has red hair or that he can't ride a bike. It's just... Sam. It's part of who he is."

This made sense to Clary. She hadn't known him an awfully long time, but Dexter didn't seem to her to be the type of person that would make a big deal out of someone's personality and-slash-or sexuality. Although she supposed you could never really tell what someone was like until you were in a situation where you were faced to confront it, but there was just something about Dexter. He seemed to see things in a simpler light than a lot of people did.

And he didn't seem to have any problem at all, seeing as both he and the redheaded boy were busting out more freestyle moves to Katy Perry's "Peacock."

The night ran on, and before they knew it Diana told them they had to leave. It was near five in the morning, and she had to close up and get home in time to wake her daughter up for Summer school.

They bid her farewell and walked outside onto the curb.

Dexter pulled his keys out of his pocket, holding them out to Annabelle.

"My lady," He drawled, swaying slightly on his feet, "While I would gladly take the reins and ride us all off into the sunset, I feel that I am not in the state to do so. Therefore, you must take this burden from my shoulders, and perform the task." Anny smiled and took the keys off him.

"Well," Jace remarked, throwing an arm over his biological brothers shoulders, "Aren't you Mister Responsible tonight."

"Mmm," Clary looked at them, amused, as the two started off down the path, towards the car. "I'm Mister Reckless with a capital R." Jace looked at him.

"That is the exact opposite of what I just said."

"I know."

XXX

The house was quiet when they returned back.

Everyone must be asleep, Clary thought as she all but dropped Jace onto a mattress in the hallway upstairs. There hadn't been anymore beds available, so Anny had dragged a spare mattress out from the basement. He would be fine there, she knew. Simon and Sam had already fallen asleep on the couches in the living room downstairs, barely having made it past the front door.

You would think that his being a vampire would have made Simon more resilient to alcohol.

Apparently not.

Sighing, she reached down and tucked the blankets around her almost sleeping boyfriend. He reached out and took her hand, placing it against his cheek. She smiled and gently rubbed the space under his eye with her thumb. He smiled and hummed to himself, a happy, satisfied hum.

"I love you Clary," He slurred, groggily. This caused her to feel almost manically happy, despite the simplicity of the message.

"I know," She told him. "I love you too."

And with that she pulled away, a bit reluctantly, tiptoeing her way into Annabelle's room, were Izzy was already sleeping.

XXX

"And that is why I refuse to watch 'Two and a Half Men'." Dexter finished, sounding pleased with himself.

"That's nice," Anny put her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to sit down on the side of the bed with a small "Oof".

He flopped back onto the bed, lying down with his legs still dangling over the side. Anny caught hold of one of his shoes, which he was swinging around; thumping them against the side of the bed the way children thump their feet on the side of a stage.

Holding the shoe firmly in one hand, she began to untie the already loose laces, pulling the shoe off of his foot. She went to catch the other one, which was still swinging relentlessly, while Dexter jabbered on in the background.

Once she finally got both his shoes off, she gave him a light slap on his shin.

"C'mon." She said, "Time to go to sleep."

"But I'm not tired." She sighed, again.

"Yes you are, you just don't want to go to bed."

"Yes. That is exactly what i don't want to do."

"Dexter, it's late." She tried reasoning with him. It was about this time she started to miss sober Dexter. He might be grumpy and blunt, but at least he was reasonable.

"Fine," The dark haired boy grumbled, rolling onto the bed so his head was where his feet were supposed to be. Oh well – it was good enough.

Annabelle plucked the glasses from his face and began pulling the blankets out from under him. She looked back up to see a shirtless Dexter fiddling with his belt, his clumsy hands having a difficult time locating the buckle. When he finally managed to get it off, he unbuttoned his jeans and began kicking them off. It was quite a sight to see, and if she hadn't been so tired, she would have laughed.

Luckily for her, she was almost certain that Dexter had reverted to full time boxer wearing in their freshman year of high school, so she didn't have to see anything the she didn't particularly want to.

She tucked the blanket around him, said goodnight and turned to walk away, but felt a warm hand grip around wrist, halting her progress.

"What is it Dexter?" She was tired. She felt as if she might pass out any minute. Izzy and Clary were already asleep in her bed, and she was sure that she and Dexter were the only two people awake in the house.

"Stay with me for a bit?" His voice was muffled; his face pressed against the mattress.

"Dexter-" He cut her off.

"Please?" She looked at him, feeling herself giving in. She didn't think it was possible for her to say no to him. She wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, so youthful; it reminded her of when they were children, and they would stay the night at each other's houses, talking long into the night until they both fell asleep. Or maybe it was that she knew that if things were the other way around, he would have done it for her.

She sat down on the bed next to him.

"Alright. Five minutes, okay?" Though she knew that was a load of rubbish. He smiled into the mattress, and she stroked his hand with her thumb.

She looked down at his bare back, and at the black tattoo printed there. The room was dark, but the light from the moon and the street lights streamed in through the window, spilling white light around them. She remembered the day he started it; on impulse, three days after graduation.

The truth was she hadn't had the chance to have a proper look at it, Dexter being the type of person who usually preferred to keep his shirt on. She found herself curious, now that she was seeing it up close.

She'd always assumed it was a fairly straightforward design; a black tree, long, thin trunk that stretched all the way from the line of his jeans to the bottom of his shoulder blades, where it spread out onto different branches, lacing over the upper left side of his back. Now, seeing it up close, she saw two new things she hadn't really cared to notice before.

The first thing she saw was that it was actually very beautiful. There was a delicacy and intricateness to the print that she hadn't noticed before.

The second thing she noticed was that it wasn't just a tree. There were letters written in black ink, outlining the trunk. She studied them, curiously, tracing them with her finger – Dexter, it seemed, was completely at ease.

As she was studying the words, she suddenly realised what they were. The first set of letters spelled _Grace. _His mother. The second was a set of initials; _S.O.B. _She smiled. Samuel Oscar Bracken.

She reached the third set of letters and felt her throat tighten and her eyes burn. It wasn't a set of Initials, but a full name.

_Annabelle Lenore Winston. _

She wasn't sure why the gesture forced such a reaction out of her. Perhaps she was just tired.

But there was something about it that made her an odd mixture of sad and happy at the same time. She wondered why he hadn't told her. Maybe he was embarrassed. Or maybe he just didn't want her to know. She knew him; knew how private he could be about certain things.

She felt a tugging around her waist, and didn't resist when Dexter pulled her down next to him. He dug his face in the crook of her neck, mumbling something incoherent to her.

She felt that maybe she ought to pull away, but she was so tired, and her thoughts seemed to be covered by a blanket of haziness. She wasn't thinking straight.

Or maybe she just didn't want to. Maybe there was a part of her that never wanted to let Dexter go; the same part of her that wasn't to see his face first thing every morning, and last thing every night before she went to sleep.

Either way, it was late. She could already see evidence of the sun in the slight green tinge to the edges of a topaz sky.

She curled up, her hand still in Dexter's, and closed her eyes.

**I know it's a bit short. Sorry if some of it doesn't make sense. I'm feeling a bit like Annabelle right now. **

**I hope you thought the Anny/Dexter scene was cute. I did. **

**A bit of fluff in there. Hope you liked that. Not much Clace, I know. Hopefully some more soon. Some big plot development next chappie. We're definitely heading towards the climax of the story, soon the end. **

**Sorry about any typos/nonsense. It's 2 in the morning. I'm really tired. **

**Thanks for reading! Please R&R. **

**Please though. I need the reviews to live. **

**TO LIVE OR NOT TO LIVE. THAT IS THE QUESTION. **

**Love, Beth. **


	22. Your Lips Are A Hot Flame

**Hello! It's me again! You know, Beth? The author?**

**You guys haven't forgotten about me yet have you? **

**Although, I wouldn't blame you if you had. It's been a while. I have been... insanely busy. Like, unbelievably busy. I'm not even just saying that. Who knew that year ten would be so hard?**

**Anyhow, I come baring gifts. Gifts of a new chapter! Hoorah. **

**DISCLAIMER: Don't tell anybody, but I actually do own M.I. Cassie Clare is just my minion whom I hired to deal with the fans and the press (not really, but how cool would it be if that were true?). **

**Enjoy. **

"Okay, now, when you get to the corner, don't forget to change to second, and switch on your-"

"PENIS!"

Annabelle whipped around, sending daggers into the back seat.

"Sam!" She huffed, cheeks red, "What the hell is your problem?" Sam put his hands up defensively.

"Well it wasn't me." He declared, and Clary snorted beside him.

"Oh yeah? Who was it then?" The ginger boy rolled his eyes.

"Simon, obviously." Simon frowned, not bothering to look up from his DS.

"No way, not me. I'm almost overlapping on Rainbow Road. This requires the utmost concentration on my part." Clary sighed,

"I've never been able to beat that one; I keep on falling off the edge."

"Shhh," Jace hushed them from the driver's seat, "I'm trying to concentrate." Clary leaned forward, placing her chin on the car seat.

"Well, I think you're doing remarkably well. Considering this is your first try." Jace smiled,

"Thank you sweetie." Simon made gagging noises behind them while Sam made a show of fake tying a noose, and fake hanging himself, a most unattractive expression on his face.

"Oh come off it, both of you." Annabelle pressed her thumb up against her temple, sighing.

"You know," Simon flicked his DS shut, straightening in his chair, "Clary shouldn't even be here. She's a distraction. Jace turn off your indicator." Clary shot him a dirty look, but sat back into the her seat."

"Technically, none of you should be here. You're all a distraction." Annabelle leaned forward, straightening the yellow L plate attached to the windscreen.

Sam, upon hearing that Jace had never learnt to drive, had made it his mission in life to make sure Jace acquired this apparently necessary skill. Of course, Sam had not expected that that might involve actually teaching him how to do so himself, so the task had fallen on Annabelle's shoulders. She didn't seem to mind though, and appeared to be quite happy blurting out directions and instructions.

"She's right." The dirty blonde conceded, but seemed otherwise unbothered, "I'm hungry. Turn in here." She told Jace, motioning towards a collection of various stores. Jace turned into the parking lot, and cut the engine.

The complex was small, with no more than fifteen or so stores. The whole place couldn't be more than a few blocks from the house. Apart from a cafe, lunch bar, Laundromat and pharmacy, they all seemed to be fashion oriented.

"Izzy would like it here," Clary noted, putting into words exactly what Jace was thinking. Simon nodded in assent.

"Where did she go, anyway?" Jace wondered, remembering that he hadn't seen her around that morning.

"Back to New York," Simon answered. "Maryse is back from Idris and needed her help with something."

"What kind of something," Jace asked as they wrenched their doors open, piling out into the hot afternoon sun.

It had been almost a month since they had first found Valentines journal, and summer was beginning to climax. Even in San Francisco, where the weather was notoriously cool this time of year, the heat was burning. Everyone was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and the slight breeze they received upon exiting the car was unsatisfactory as a coolant. The air seemed to boil making, Jace's skin itch in the way skin does when it gets overheated. Neither Annabelle nor Clary wore make up, though if they had it would have melted off of them before noon. Jace wasn't sure that he was built for California.

"Nothing interesting," Simon said in reply, "I think it's mainly just admin stuff, Clave business."

Jace nodded, secretly glad that Maryse hadn't called him back also. Technically, since all of the Lightwood children were adults (Izzy had celebrated her birthday in March), all of them were supposed to contribute to the keeping of the Institute. However, it turns out that Jace is fantastically useless at keeping the institute. It wasn't even because he didn't try; he, surprisingly, did. He just wasn't any good. In fact, he became such a nuisance, Maryse decided to exclude him from administration duties completely. Not that Jace cared; that stuff was boring as hell anyway. So now all he had to do was sit in on Consul Meetings, in which he spent most of his time either staring out the window or sending paper planes into the back of Alec's head. Clary hadn't been to any Consul meetings yet – she didn't turn eighteen until August- but something told him she'd be fantastic at them.

"Where are we headed?" Clary asked Annabelle, who was slipping a pair of ray bans.

"Umm," She glanced around, "Well the cafe is ridiculously overpriced but the lunch bar is decent." Sam nodded,

"They make a killer salad roll."

Stepping inside the restaurant, they were greeted by a blast of cool air. Jace stopped, grateful for the respite, but frowned. A sharp pain had begun in his left temple and he pressed a thumb against it tenderly, but it did little to stifle the ache.

"Is there a pharmacy anywhere around here?" He asked no one in particular. Simon motioned out the door, across to the row of shops opposite them.

"Just out there. Hard to miss." He smirked.

"Are you okay?" Clary looked concerned, taking his hand in hers. The heat had caused her usually curly hair to go completely haywire, frizzing up all around her shoulders.

"I'm always okay," He said, not unkindly, "I just need an aspirin or something."

Clary nodded and released her hold on him.

XXX

Jace placed a packet of nurofen and a bottle of water on the counter. The pretty brunette behind the counter smiled at him.

"That'll be $11.40 please," He handed over a twenty and waited for his change.

"Thanks." He turned to walk out.

"Hey," The girl called out to him, "Stay hydrated, okay? It's hot out there." He nodded, and stepped out into choking heat.

He was just about to cross the road inbetween the pharmacy and the lunch bar when he heard the barking. He wasn't sure, but it felt like the animal sounds were directed at him. He turned towards it, curiously. Sure enough, tethered to a bike rack outside the Laundromat, was a familiar looking, honey coloured golden retriever.

"Hey Audrey," He greeted the canine, and her reaction was one of complete delight. She bounded towards him and the only thing keeping her from bulldozing him over was the bright blue leash. He knelt down beside the dog, and she leapt up, placing both her front paws on his shoulders. He expected to be over whelmed by an arsenal of licks, but received just one right up his left cheek. He grinned, scratching behind her ears and under her chin. Audrey made a series of happy sounding growls from deep in her throat.

He hated to admit it, but Jace couldn't deny the thrill he got from this show of affection. There was just something about having someone who got so excited over your very presence, someone who, despite having only met him a couple of times, seemed almost overwhelmed by the site of him; it was something close to intoxicating.

Jace rubbed her head roughly once more, and stood up, peering inside the Laundromat. If Audrey was here, Dexter couldn't be far away. Sure enough, perched on wooden bench inside the laundry, was Dexter. His back was turned to them, so Jace couldn't see his face, but he could tell it was him by the rhythmic tap of his fingers on the bench next to him; a habit Jace shared with him.

Jace stepped inside the store and surveyed the place. It was fairly unsubstantial, with white walls, bottle green tiles and wooden benches that seemed as though they might break at any moment. Dexter was seated cross legged on one of the benches, staring absently at the drier opposite him. He had a pair of earphones plugged into his ears, and there was a thin white stick sticking out of his mouth. It took Jace a few moments to recognize it as a Chupa-Chup.

The dark haired boy seemed completely oblivious to Jace's presence. He also appeared to be completely oblivious to the couple of teenage girls sitting at the benches lining the front window. What they were doing in a Laundromat was at loss to Jace – they didn't appear to have any laundry on them- but they seemed very fascinated by Dexter. Jace frowned. They were your typical California dimes; blonde, beach tan, tiny sundresses slung over even tinier bikinis. They couldn't have been older than sixteen.

Jace strode over to were Dexter sat, plonking down on the seat beside him. The boy jumped, then, seeing who it was, relaxed, tugging his earphones out by the cord.

"kgey," He said, or more like mumbled, through a mouth of hard sugar. He plucked out and coughed.

"I mean, hey." Jace motioned to the girls.

"You have an audience." Dexter glanced towards the teenagers, who erupted into a burst of giggles, hiding behind their long, dyed blonde hair. He turned away frowning.

"Ugh," He visibly shivered, "They look like Molly."

"Molly?"

"Anny's little sister," He explained.

"Ah." Dexter shook his head just as the timer on the machine went off. He reached under the seat, pulling out a blue plastic laundry basket.

"What are you doing here, anyways?" He asked as he piled clothes into the basket.

"Sam decided that it was absolutely essential that I learned to drive. We stopped for lunch. What are you doing here?" Dexter just looked at him, then at the basket of clothes, then at the drier, then back at Jace.

"Pilates."

The blonde boy rolled his eyes.

"Okay, dumb question. Whatever." Jace stood up, "Are you done here? We're just at the lunch bar, if you want to join us."

"Sure."

They crossed the yard, Audrey in tow. When they reached the alfresco area of the bar, Annabelle was seated at one of the empty table outside, her phone pressed to her ear. She seemed tense, pulling at the hem of her blouse. Was she talking to her sister again, like she was the night before?

When she saw them, she smiled weakly at waved, but said nothing. She didn't seem to surprised to see Dexter.

They went inside, were everybody else was tucking into their lunches. Clary looked up, smiling.

"Oh, hey Dexter," She shuffled over in the booth to make room for them. "Sorry we didn't get you anything; didn't know you were here." Dexter smiled,

"That's okay, I'm not hungry." He reached across the table, plucking Sam's soda from his hand.

"That's mine," He pointed out.

"Not anymore." The ginger shrugged,

"Fine. But you owe me a coke."

"Fine."

They ate in relative silence. Not necessarily awkward. Just silent. Annabelle came back in at some point, cheeks flushed. She said nothing to anyone, so nobody said anything to her. Dexter and Simon started up a conversation on something, but Jace wasn't really listening. He busied himself in playing with Clary's hair, twirling the bright red ringlets around his fingers, stretching them out until they were long enough to reach her elbows. His other hand curled around her waist, brushing his fingers lightly over the bare strip of skin inbetween her jeans and her tee shirt. She bit her lip, giggling as she dug her face into the crook of her neck. As far as he could tell, the others were completely oblivious to the two of them.

Once lunch was finished, they piled into the car. Dexter, Simon and Sam piled into the front seat, Audrey flinging herself over Dexter's lap and Jace, Clary and Annabelle took the rear. The ride home was relatively uneventful, and Jace managed to keep a game of footsie up with a giggling Clary. Dexter complained loudly when Sam and Annabelle started an impromptu game of I Spy, a game he apparently abhorred with every fibre of his being. Something about a very long road trip with his grandparents in elementary school. It occurred to Jace that Sam and Annabelle knew this, and that the sole purpose of initiating the game was to irritate him.

They were about a block from the house when Jace first felt it. It was like a twinge, deep in his chest. It filled him with unease, and he couldn't stop the anxiety from ripping through his chest. He couldn't explain it, but he just had this unshakeable feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Or was already happening.

He was right. Something terrible was happening. But he wasn't the first to see it; Simon was.

"Oh my-" He choked on the Holy word, but the idea was still there. Dexter pulled up onto the verge roughly, not bothering to park straight. He cut the engine and everyone poured out. Annabelle let out a small, strangled cry at the sight, and tried to step towards it, but Dexter already had an arm around her waist and was pulling her backwards. Jace didn't blame him.

Because it was the house. The entire thing was up in flames.

**Oh how I love a cliffie. They are delectable, are they not? **

**RECAP (It's a new thing): Annabelle teaches Jace to drive, but gets then he gets a head ache. Dexter does some laundry but gets stalked by clones of Annabelle's little sister (gasp). Clary feels sad about Mario kart. Sam likes salad rolls, but he's a potty mouth. Simon gets accused of foul mouthery and wins at Mario kart. Dexter steals Sam's drink (the bastard). Oh, and the house get set on fire. **

**That's it, I think. Hope you guys liked it. **

**Reviews would be nice. **

**Love, Beth. **


	23. Like A Candle You Burnt Out

**Hey, hey. New chapter. **

**I should be doing homework. But I'm not. I'm writing fanfiction for you. Because I love you. Also, I was struck by sudden inspiration. **

**DISCLAIMER: Me? Owning M.I? . No. I'm pretty sure that would involve some kind of talent. Something of which I am sorely lacking. **

**Hope you guys enjoy this **

The first thing Clary noticed was that this was no ordinary fire. She wasn't sure how she could tell, but there was something in the way it moved that was unnatural. The flaming branches of heat licking out through the opened windows were too uniform. The way it flickered and swayed was too rhythmical; not wild and erratic the way natural fire was. And there were other things too, aside from its apparent uniformity; it exuded no smoke. That was how nobody noticed the fire until they saw the house. Also, it was silent. There was no roar, no crackle of burning wood to signify its destruction. The entire thing was eerily peaceful; so peaceful, in fact, that nobody, not even the middle aged couple across the street, gardening in their front lawn, seemed to notice that an entire house was up in flames. Somebody had put up a glamour.

Jace was the first to spring into action.

"Who's in there?" He asked Dexter, his tone alert. Dexter was still gawking, and had to peel his eyes away from the inferno to concentrate on the question properly.

"Uh, I don't know. Jessie's probably still in there, but who knows if Scott and Mel are..." His voice trailed off, the fire catching his attention again. Annabelle was struggling to free herself from his grip, but her attempts appeared to be futile.

Jace made a bee line for the house, and Sam trailed quickly behind him, his expression panicked. Clary followed, pulling out her stele. She glanced back at Dexter, Annabelle and Simon, who were still lurking on the curb; Simon just seemed stunned, but Dexter appeared to be struggling to keep a very aggravated Annabelle from breaking loose.

"Simon!" She called to him, and he broke out of his trance. He took a step towards her, but she held up her hands, waving them frantically.

"No!" She screamed, "Don't come any closer, you'll burn to death." Vampires were particularly susceptible to fire. She couldn't risk him getting too close. He seemed to understand and stayed where he was. Dexter unwound his arm from around Annabelle's waist, but took her by the elbows and thrust her towards the vampire.

"Stay here." He ordered, and turned towards the house. Clary was itching to get in there and help Jace. He had Sam with him, but she barely knew the boy, and had no idea how much help he would be in a situation like this. But she didn't want Dexter going in alone after her.

"Wait! Dexter!" Annabelle began to follow him, but the dark haired boy seemed unwilling to let her.

"Simon hold on to her!" Simon wrapped both arms around her shoulders. "Simon, don't let her come near okay. If you do," His voice was surprisingly menacing, "I will hold you personally accountable for every scratch on her body" Simon nodded. Annabelle screamed after him.

"Dexter, I swear to God..." He ignored the threat, striding towards the house in long gallop-like steps. Annabelle was livid, throwing a series of colourful obscenities, most of them directed at Dexter, their way, and kicking out at Simons legs. He winced, but stood his ground.

Inside the house everything was ablaze. The mysterious fire had caught onto literally everything, devouring the curtains and the furniture under orange sheets of burning air. Clary's skin boiled under its immense heat, and she knew by instinct that there would not be much to salvage after this was over.

Despite the disturbing quiet outside, inside the inferno itself the sound of roaring fire was deafening. Not to mention the awful stench of burning leather and sulphur. Clary stopped. Sulphur.

This was the work of demons.

Crinkling her nose, she motioned to Dexter, pointing to the stairwell. Jace would already be checking the downstairs rooms.

"C'mon!" She screamed above the noise. They struggled up the stairs; a difficult conquest, considering that the railing was made of wood, and was currently ablaze. Clary forced her way on up the stairs, those two years of training finally coming in handy. Fire endurance was a subject they touched on briefly. She looked back at Dexter over her shoulder, worried. He had no training and while the fact that there was no smoke made the entire thing ten times easier, the incredible heat from the unnatural blaze was pressing down on them, and made just take a step feel like dragging your feet through boiling honey.

They trudged onwards, into the hallway. Sweat rolled down her forehead, stinging as it dripped into her eyes. The upstairs was just as bad as downstairs. Heat seemed to exude from pores in the walls, engulfing them, suffocating them.

"Scott!" Dexter cried out, his voice rough, "Mel! Jessie!" No reply. He tried again, and Clary joined in, louder this time.

The reply was so quiet underneath the roar that Clary wasn't sure she heard it first. Then it came again; a cross between a whimper and a scream, and she was certain.

"In there!" She called to Dexter, pointing at the room where the cry was coming from. Dexter nodded, and Clary pushed the door open. At first glance the room was empty, save the burning rug and furniture. Then she heard the cry again.

Hunched in the corner, curled into the foetal position, was Jessie. Her brown eyes were wide with fear, and her clothes and mocha coloured skin was covered in glistening sweat. Dexter crouched down beside her.

"Have you been hurt?" He asked her. She shook her head, shaking all over. "Can you walk?"

"I think so," She croaked. Dexter hooked an arm through one of hers and helped her into a standing position. She took a step forward, gingerly, but when her foot flattened on the ground she let out a shriek of pain. Clary could see why.

Her entire heal, as week a great deal of the sole of her foot, had been badly burnt, leaving her with raw, blistering flesh. There was no way she'd be walking on that any time soon.

Suddenly, there was a barking in the doorway. Audrey. Clary hadn't even seen her follow them into the house. Dexter glanced her way fleetingly, as he pulled one of Jessie's arms around his shoulders, supporting her.

"Audrey," He growled, "Shoo. Get outside." Clary had no idea whether the dog understood or not. It just kept on barking at them, high pitched and panicky.

Clary took Jessie's other arm and they hobbled together, slowly towards the doorway, as Audrey continued yelping. Clary knew it was a bit crazy, but it felt as though her high pitched barks were calling them, beckoning them forward, almost, in a way, cheering them on.

And they were _so close. _The doorway had to only be about a foot in front of them. But it was not close enough.

Suddenly there was an awful cracking sound, and Clary only looked up just in time to see the wardrobe by the door, the legs burnt out from underneath it, come hurtling down towards them. They would have been crushed and-slash-or burnt to death if it weren't for the golden retriever, hurtling itself forward into Jessie, knocking her down, pulling them over with her.

The burning piece of furniture wedged itself in the doorway with a crash, sending burning hot sparks over them like a shower of fire.

Clary sat there on the carpet, frozen. There was only one thought running through her head;

_They were trapped. _

The door was completely blocked by the wardrobe, and the bed- which was completely and utterly consumed by flames- had been unfortunately positioned beneath the window. They were completely locked in.

"What do we do?" Jessie asked her voice wobbling. Clary looked at Dexter over the girls head. White hot light reflected of his glasses, and he reached up, slipping them off his head. He pulled them into his lap, wiping the lenses on his jeans. He looked up then, and met Clary's eyes. She was struck by how different he looked without them on. He looked younger, his eyes big and innocent, surprisingly a few shades darker than she'd originally thought; like chocolate mixed with butterscotch. She looked into them, and they stared back, slightly unfocused but very sad, and she knew he was thinking the same thing as her.

They were going to die.

The reality of it hit her like a blow in the chest. Just this morning she'd been so happy. Jace had kissed her awake around eleven, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear.

_Jace. _

She was never going to see him again. Never hear his voice again, never kiss his lips. The thought of it sent an almost crippling wave of terror through her. Did he even know that she was in trouble now? Probably not. He'd come to trust her with her own life, perhaps a bit too much. Even if he did know she needed him, he wouldn't be able to get to her in time. She could already feel the fire, it's deadly tongues licking at her arms and the back of her neck.

She felt the sudden urge to feel somebody, to have someone, _anyone_, near her. She needed some kind of human contact. She didn't want to die alone.

She turned her head to look beside her. Jessie had taken up the foetal position once more, sobbing into her arms. That left one person.

Pulling herself onto her knees, she shuffled around the hysterical girl, who was far beyond comforting. Dexter welcomed her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him. He was skinnier than Jace, but he smelled almost exactly the same, like lemons and sunshine.

"I'm so sorry." Dexter's voice was rough and tight. Audrey had begun howling, pacing in circles around them.

"I've never understood why mundanes insist on apologizing for things that aren't their fault." She mumbled into his tee shirt. Another pang of uncontrollable grief rang through her, memories of Jace welling up inside her like tears. Would he be okay without her? No. That was a stupid thing to ask. He would not be okay. What about her mother? Jocelyn had already lost so much. And Simon. She hadn't even said goodbye.

Dexter had gone very tense, and she knew that he was thinking about Annabelle.

"I never even got to tell her..." his voice cut off, lost in the thickness of his grief. Clary had a pretty good idea what he was talking about though.

"She knows." Her voice was surprisingly firm.

"You think so?"

"I know so."

The heat was suffocating, and her lungs were screaming for fresh air. Her head had become very light, and the world was spinning around her. She could feel Dexter sagging against her. Good. If they were lucky, they would pass out before the fire got them and consumed them whole. If they were lucky, this would be painless.

Clary's world tipped sideways, Dexter's arms no longer strong enough to hold her upright, and she was looking at the world sideways, through eyes blurred with tears.

Black patches dotted her vision, and she felt her mind slipping away. In her haze, a pair of bare, long tanned legs appeared before her. She felt the cool hands of death on her bare shoulders, and soon she was swept over by a wave of refreshingly chilled air.

She had just enough time to hear Jace's voice, calling her name, before she was plunged into a sea of darkness.

**A bit short, sorry. **

**This was a very sad chapter for me to write, but do not fret! I have a special plan install *laughs manically* **

**You'll see. **

**Reviews are greatly appreciated. **

**Love,**

**Beth. **


	24. We Wake Up With Headaches

**Hi, I know it's been ages, but you actually won't believe the semester I have had. Unbelievable.  
But here I am now, and I brought you a lovely long chapter with **_**HEAPS**_** of plot developments and stuff. **

**So yeah. Hope you enjoy it. **

**DISCLAIMER: If I were Cassie Clare, I would have money and a huge following of teenage girls hanging on my every word. However, I have neither of these things. So I must not be Cassie Clare. Shame.**

The first thing Dexter saw when he opened his eyes was the sky. Periwinkle blue and blotches of blurry white some-thing's he could only assume to be clouds. As his eyes came in and out of focus, straining to concentrate on what hovered overhead, chubby little forms came into view. They were, if he was not mistaken... cherubs?

_Is this heaven?_ He thought to himself, a sick feeling growing in his stomach, _I was hoping for something a little less cliché._ He reached his arm out beside him; patting the surface he was lying on, and struck gold.

Relieved, he slipped the familiar glasses onto his face and blinked, looking around.

No, he was not in heaven. The cherubs and clouds were part of a mural painted on ceiling of what looked like- as far as he could tell-some kind of infirmary. The room was dimly lit, and he was lying on a white sheeted, metal framed bed; just one in a row of what looked to be about ten. A grey-blue knitted blanket had been thrown over him, and he had been dressed in a pair of white flannelette pyjamas. Everything around him smelt like antiseptic and baby powder.

Dexter sat up and winced. His skin felt raw, and there was a sudden hard pounding in his left temple. He pulled up one of his sleeves, revealing a layer of cotton wool bandaging covering a large patch of his arm, secured by strips of medical tape. He rolled down his sleeve, pursing his lips together at the sting that came with putting pressure on the wounded parts of his skin. Led by instinct he pulled up the hem of his shirt, revealing a similar display of bandaging.

Resisting the urge to scratch at the bandages- that were, in his now conscious state, beginning to itch like nothing he'd ever felt before- he slid out of the bed onto a creamy white tiled floor. Somebody had pulled a dark wood chair up beside the bed, and there was a blanket, identical to the one he'd been sleeping under, thrown messily over the back of it. He looked up, and was surprised – all though, if he thought about it, he really shouldn't have been – to see that five of the other nine beds in the room were occupied by various sleeping figures, wrapped in bandages, some hooked up to what looked like IV bags filled with strange translucent liquids. All the furniture in the room, save the beds which where framed in a surprisingly shiny, silver metal, was carved mahogany. The walls were painted a creamy white, to match the tiles. On the table beside his bed was a white lamp, emitting a dull yellow light. Something about the lamp bothered him, and when he peered through the hole in the top of the lamp shade, he was bewildered to fine not a light bulb, but what looked like a ball of pale yellow fire, floating in mid air. He was so not in Kansas anymore.

Dexter gulped, nervously, looking for a window. Luckily, there was one inbetween his bed and the one on his right. Walking around to the other side, her opened the curtains, and had to stop himself from gasping at what he saw.

It was a city. But not any ordinary city, like San Francisco or Chicago. In fact, it was really like nothing he'd ever seen before. It was night time, but he could easily see the winding cobblestone roads outside the building –he must have been in one of the upper stories of a tall building- and a couple of streets over he could see what looked like some kind of square, with a large fountain and a statue of an angel. Town houses with balconies and flower boxes lined the streets, their mixture of terracotta, pale grey, and black tiled roofs creating a patchwork of colour through the city. The winding streets were narrow, lit up by old fashion styled street lamps, which gave off a strange, blue-white glow. He could see people walking below them, laughing, talking, their voices muted by the window pane. He was reminded of old cities in Italy, like Milan or Florence. Although he couldn't remember any cities in Italy that had tall, thin towers made of glowing glass.

"Mr Fletcher?" Dexter jumped at the hushed voice behind him. Turning, he came face to face with a woman of about thirty, clad in a pressed blue cross-over dress underneath a stark white apron. Her blonde hair was tied into a tight bun at the base of her neck, and she was smiling at him, kindly.

"Yeah?" He slurred, and cringed, unsure as to why he had suddenly turned into stroke victim. Coughing, he tried again.

"I mean, uh, yes?" She smiled again, and began bustling around the bed, pushing the chair back from the bed, folding the blanket neatly over the back.

"How are you feeling? She asked him, her voice soft as she started making the bed, folding the blanket and redoing the hospital corners with a speedy efficiency.

"Okay." He mumbled in response, scratching the back of his neck.

"Sore?" She guessed, stepping back from the bed. He nodded in assent, and she smiled sympathetically. "Why don't you have a seat up here, and I'll have a look at those bandages for you." He hesitated.

"Don't worry," She told him, "I do this for a living, you're in safe hands."

"Oh, I didn't mean-" She cut him off.

"I know. I was just joking."

"Oh." He smiled nervously, and slid onto the bed. The woman, whom he assumed to be some kind of nurse, wheeled over a wooden tray. On it was a variety of capped flasks and jars, all of which held interesting looking creams and liquids, as well as a ceramic jug and cup. The nurse began pouring whatever was in the jug into the cup, and handed it to him.

"Drink this," She instructed, "You haven't eaten in days, so you'll need something in your stomach." Suddenly feeling famished, he did as he was told. The mixture was thick and warm, and tasted like ginger and honey.

While he drank, the woman rolled up one of his sleeves and peeled back the bandages. He almost choked when he saw the raw, blistered skin underneath. The woman began dabbing at it with antiseptic, and he had to keep from hissing at the sharp sting. Once she was done, he watched her as she dabbed at his skin with a cream that number the stinging and the itching.

"Can I ask a question," He said, and she looked up from his arm, waiting. "Where exactly am I?" She put a hand to her chest.

"Oh my Angel, I'm so sorry. I just completely forgot." She fixed a clean bandage to his arm and began explaining.

"My name is Annabeth. I'm a healer here in the infirmary building, in Alicante. Your brother told you about Alicante right?"

"You mean Jace?" She nodded. "Yeah, he told me a bit. It's like, the shadowhunter home town or something right?"

"Right. Anyway, you were brought here after a fire in the house you were living in, in California. Do you remember?" He frowned, nodding, and then jumped as something occurred to him.

"Oh, Clary! Is she-"

"She's fine," Annabeth cut him off again, "Better than you actually. And your other friend – was it Jessie? - She's fine too. We had to have a warlock erase her memory - she was hysterical- and sent her back to her mothers." He let out a sigh of relief as she began peeling back a bandage on his neck that he hadn't even realised was there.

"Good. Was anybody else hurt?" Annabeth shook her head.

"No, she was the only mundane in the house."

"What about Annabelle and Sam?" His heart skipped a beat at the prospect of either of them being hurt. She taped a new bandage to his neck.

"Lie down." She told him, and he did as he was told. She lifted up his shirt and began working on the burns on the side of his body and his rib-cage.

"What about Annabelle and Sam?" He asked again, feeling the panic rise in his chest, "Are they okay?"

"You mean the red headed mundane?" He nodded, "We convinced him to go back to his parent's house in Chicago. We would've erased his memory too, but he already knew so much there didn't seem to be a point."

"And Annabelle?"

"Oh we tried to get her to go home with Samuel, but she's fantastically stubborn, that girl is. And loyal too. You should feel grateful to have a friend like that. Refused to leave your side once, so she came with you to Alicante." She finished her work, and pulled the hem of his shirt down. He sat up.

"In fact," She continued, "I'm surprised she isn't here now. She was sitting right there when I last checked. Has been for two days."

_So that's who was in the chair, _He thought to himself, _where did she go?_

"Anyway," Annabeth went on, packing up the creams, "I think we're just about done here. How do you feel now?"

"Great." He answered. It wasn't a lie.

"Good. I have to go now, but there are some clothes in your bedside table if you want to change. You can look around if you want, but be careful of the other patients and don't go too far." She turned to walk out, but then looked back.

"And be careful. I don't want any of those burns getting infected."

XXXX

Jace twirled the blade in his hand carefully, watching the moonlight glint in its silvery blade. The house was empty, and it unnerved him, just slightly, to remember how just a few days ago it had been filled with music and laughter and _life_. Now it stood empty and silent, all evidence that it had once been a place called "home" erased.

The frame and basic structure of the building had, strangely, survived the blaze that had ripped through it not forty eight hours ago, eating away at almost everything that had been stored here. The bare cement floors and walls were charred and the entire place smelt like burnt toast and rotten eggs and burning flesh. Glaring out at the full moon through blackened window pane, Jace slid the dagger back into his wrist sheath and listened to the sounds of the warlock behind him. There was the rustle of pages as she flicked through the spell book, and then chanting; Latin, he thought. His mind kept flashing back to when he'd "met" the warlock woman, not long after the fire.

"_I needed a place to hide, and Valentine knew that. He gave me the perfect camouflage. I would never be found, so long as I kept up my end of the bargain. It was exactly what I needed."_

_Then silence. The air between them was thick. _

"_Do you care for him?"_

"_Do you mean to ask if I have grown to love him?"_

"_Well have you?"_

"_How could I not?"_

Now, Jace turned from the window, to face the centre of the room.

The warlock, in a red velvet dress and thigh high boots, almost reminded him of Isabelle. Almost. She was tall; thin but athletic, with long legs the colour of maple syrup. Her hair was cropped short in a pixie cut to frame her delicate face, exposing her bare back. It was hard to see in the moonlight, but Jace could just make out the faint outline of a thin wing webbed with spidery veins, moulded to the shape of her back.

"Is it done yet?" He was growing impatient.

"Almost." She answered, never taking her eyes off the pentagram they had scrawled on the cement floor in white chalk. It began to glow, and she started chanting louder, methodical rhythmic, like a song.

Peaks of blue fire shot from the five points of the diagram, and a figure began to form in the centre. Bulging and disfigured, it rose from a pool of tar and slowly began to take form.

"Who calls me?" The thing hissed, dripping tar onto the ground in front of it. It looked human shaped, two legs, two arms and a head, but it was eyeless and its skin was made of black ichor, its mouth a dripping hole in the head of the beast.

"_Sansi. _My name is Jace Lightwood," He told it. "I have a score to settle with you."

"Shadowhunter," _Sansi_ spat, "So proud, so stubborn, so _foolish_. What could I have possibly done to hurt you? You know I like to keep to myself." Jace scowled.

"Don't play dumb with me," He growled, "I know you have power over the entrance to one of the demon realms. I also know you give passage to this world in exchange for favours." The demon hissed, spraying the front of Jace's shirt with black tar.

"I see my... clients have been talking more than they should be. I'll have to do something about that."

"I don't care what you do with your 'clients'," He snapped impatiently, "I only care about one thing. And if you tell me what I need to know, I'll let you go back to your hell-hole in one piece." The demon let out a noise that somewhat resembled a sigh.

"Very well, Shadowhunter," It gurgled, "What is it that you want?"

"Two days ago one of your, as you call them, 'Clients', came to this house. It was a fire demon. _Ignis. _It was sent here for the purpose of killing someone who lived here. An untrained Nephilim. It almost succeeded. However, I know that you would have no reason to tell them to do this, so someone must have bribed you to do it for them. I want to know who it was, and where I can find them."

_Sansi _slid forward in the pentagram. Jace could smell its breath, rotten and sour.

"You're angry. You care about this Nephilim, do you not?"

"Perhaps."

"Do not think I have not heard of you, boy with many names. You call yourself a Lightwood, but you are truly Herondale, raised a Wayland and believed to be a Morgenstern. And this boy you seek to protect, who is a Nephilim but not a shadowhunter, was also raised with the wrong name, called something he is not. He is your brother and your blood. And your blood is not ordinary shadowhunter blood, is it?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Have you ever considered that Dexter Herondale could be seen as equal to a very expensive jewel, left out on the sidewalk, available to anybody should they deem it as desirable? So valuable and so _unprotected. _Anybody who knew of his importance could simply come along and use him, don't you agree?"

"So someone wants him? Because of his blood? Why not me? We have the same."

"You, Jace Herondale, are a Shadowhunter. So patriotic and proud, so loyal and steady. If one wanted you for your blood, they would have to take you by force. But Dexter Herondale is no better than a mundane. And mundanes are so fickle. So easily persuaded. And just imagine what one could so with his blood and his consent." Jace shook his head.

"No. You're wrong. He's not just a mundane; he's a Nephilim too. He wouldn't just go to the dark side for no reason."

"Of course not. But what if everything he cared about was lost? What if his parents forgot him, his friends disappeared, his home destroyed?" The last sentence hung in the air between them.

"Who are they?" Jace said finally, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

"He is a demon. His name is _Raemys. _A force t be reckoned with, Shadowhunter."

"We'll see. Where is he hiding?"

"If I tell you, will you swear on your Angel to kill him for me? If he finds out what I have told you, he will come for me, and I am more afraid of him than I am of you."

"Fine," Jace growled, "I swear." He could have sworn he saw the beast smile.

"He resides here in California. I do not know where exactly, but I can tell you that he won't be going anywhere quickly. He still has business here." Jace nodded.

"Good," He turned to the warlock, who was waiting, patiently, in the darkness beside him. To her, he said, "Let it go." She began chanting, and the pentagram lit up again.

"One more thing, Shadowhunter," _Sansi _drawled at Jace, his body already melting into itself, "_Raemys _is a master of disguise. He is never what he appears to be, and always what you would not expect. It will take skill to find him." Jace lifted his chin and sniffed.

"Why are you telling me this? It can't be just because you're scared of what I will do to you, can it?" It grinned, baring a set of rotten teeth.

"I'm tired of doing favours for that fool. It would be nice to have him out of my hair."

And then it was gone, and the house was dark and silent again, the only evidence of the demons recent presence being the smell of sulphur in the air.

"How will we find him?" Jace asked the warlock.

"I'll ask around. I have some old connections, I'll check if they know anything. If I can find anything that belonged to him I can try a tracking spell, but he might be using protective wards." Jace nodded.

"Thank you, Warlock Farnhell." The warlock smiled at him sadly, the white moonlight casting shadows across her sharp features.

"No thanks are needed. We are, after all, fighting for the same cause. Also please," She added, "Call me Audrey."

**Oh wow. So exciting. Cliffie. Yay. **

**Anyway, that was it! What do you think?**

**If there's anything you don't understand, send me a review /PM and I'll explain it to you. **

**Send me a review anyway and let me know what you thought. Constructive criticism is welcomed. **

**Love you guys, **

**Beth. **


	25. What's Left In Nothing

**Hey again. Sorry it's been such a long time. **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter. **

**DISCLAIMER: The Mortal Instruments and its characters do not belong to me. **

Dexter's eyes shifted from Jace to the warlock, then back to Jace again. He frowned. He leant forward, elbows on knees. He chewed his thumb nail. He stopped. He leant back on the hard chair again, pursing his lips together. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. He looked almost offended.

"Well," He began indignantly, "I can't believe this."

"Well, it's pretty simple really," Alec started from where he stood beside Jace in the wide hospital waiting room. "Your dog is a warlock. I can't honestly say this type of thing hasn't happened before." Dexter ran a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable.

"That's not what I'm talking about," He shot an accusing look at Audrey. "I changed in front of you." Audrey scoffed.

"Well, it's not like I ever looked or anything."

"Funny enough, that doesn't actually make me, feel better." He stood up. "And that's not the only thing, either. I was good to you. I could have gotten you the cheap dog food, couldn't I? But no, I forked out and got you the nice stuff, the organic type with actual food bits in it. I let you sleep on the end of my bed. You could've at least told me you were a freaking warlock." Now it was Audrey's turn to get offended.

"Well, it wasn't always sunshine and rainbows with you, you realise. I had to sit through all your pubescent bullshit and let's not forget about your emo phase."

"I never had an emo phase."

"Oh yes you did. And not to mention all those times you stepped on me."

"Those where accidents and I apologised profusely, every time." Jace stood up now, deciding that this would not lead anywhere good.

"Okay, okay, enough, both of you." Audrey huffed but sat down. Dexter remained on his feet. "Let's all keep in mind that you have a lot more to worry about, like, I don't know, the fact that there's a demon out there thirsty for your blood." Dexter seemed to consider this.

"It's a good point," Annabelle said, voice hard, from a few feet over from the squabbling group where she had been sitting silently for the duration of the conversation. "I think it's really the main priority here. Everything else can wait." He looked at her for a few moments, then sat down, defeated.

"You're right. But where do we start? I mean, what exactly am I supposed to do in this situation?"

"Well it shouldn't be too hard," Jace stated, "I mean, if the demon really wants you he'll come and get you, right? But we want to be a step ahead of this thing."

"And how do you suppose we do that?" Dexter seemed indignant.

"You guys have to think, remember." Jace looked at Dexter, "This guy has been trying to drive a wedge between you and all the people you care about for years. The only reason he's coming after you so directly now, with the fire and everything, is because I showed up. But he's been around for a long time. Think. Is there anyone who's acted strangely towards you, taken an unnatural interest in your life? Anybody at all." Dexter was already shaking his head.

"No, no, none that I can think of." Alec cut in.

"Have there been any strange, spontaneous events that you can think of? Something that went unexplained?" The dark haired boy frowned.

"There was this one thing, at the book store a couple of weeks ago, just after we met. Somebody was there, and he asked me something."

"What did he say?"

"'What's keeping you here'. I don't know, it was really weird. He just disappeared after that."

"What did he look like?" He shook his head again.

"I wasn't wearing my glasses. All I could tell that he was tall. And blonde." He looked up at Jace. "Lighter than yours though. Almost white." Alec and Jace glanced at each other, but said nothing.

"That's not a lot to go on." Jace said. "Is there anything else?"

"Your mother," Audrey said, abruptly. Dexter stared at her, bewildered.

"What about her?" Audrey sighed, and stood up. She walked to the window of the clean, pale blue room, and looked out onto the city. She turned back to them and bit her lip.

"Almost sixteen years ago, your mom, she discovered something about you. I wasn't sure what it was at the time, but now I guess that she found out what you really where. I think she discovered what we're just finding out; that you're blood is worth its weight in gold, to the demon community. She found out you were in danger. It's why she took you to the farm."

"Farm?" Jace furrowed his brow, "I thought you grew up in Chicago."

"No," Dexter mumbled, "I mean, I lived there for a couple of years, I guess, but we moved out to a farm further out of the city. We farmed canola. You know, for oil."

"Your mom moved out there because she was scared. For you. She dedicated her entire life to keeping you safe."

"Right." Jace began, "Well then there must be some clues as to who exactly this guy is somewhere around your house, right? And we'll have to talk to your mom, find out what she knows." Dexter smiled, then, a little bitter.

"Well you can try, I guess. Don't know what good it'll do you."

"Why?" He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, absentmindedly pressing his thumb and forefinger to his collar bone. A nervous habit.

"Because she's sick. Alzheimer's. She doesn't even remember who I am, eighty percent of the time." Alec didn't even blink.

"But she does remember some of time, right?"

"I guess." The shadowhunter stood up.

"Great. You and Jace try talking to her. Izzy and I will go see what we can find at the house."

"I'll go with you," Annabelle piped up. Dexter frowned.

"Maybe it's best if you went home…" She just looked at him, and it was silent for a moment as they shared a look that Jace couldn't decipher.

"Alright." Dexter said at last. "Just… be careful okay?" She grimaced.

"Look who's talking."

XXX

Jace had never liked mundane Hospitals. It was the quiet, really, that bothered him. The hushed voices of nurses and visitors, the emptiness in the walls that was almost palpable despite the fact that some of these places where so overcrowded that there were patients sleeping in the halls. This hospital wasn't Manhattan General though, or Israel Beth. It was one of those smaller, independent medical centres that specialised in some area of medicine like orthopaedics or neurology, or some particular condition like AIDS, or in this case, Alzheimer's slash dementia.

Jace waited out of the way as Dexter spoke with one of the nurses at the front desk. Through a door to his left was some kind of rec room, where about ten or so mundanes, in the older age bracket, sat on reclining lounges and cream sofas. Some of the patients sat with orderlies and nurses, laughing and talking, or playing board games, while others just sat. He was peering in at the group curiously when an old man of seventy or eighty or so met his eyes. The man just stared at him, eyes (an unnervingly bright blue) penetrating until Jace couldn't stand to look anymore.

"Jace?" The blonde boy jumped at Dexter's sudden appearance. "C'mon." Jace followed the other boy down the hall towards the elevators.

XXX

Clary was somewhat surprised at Annabelle's composure as they passed through the portal. A brief look of surprise and then she just seemed to accept it. Clary had been more perplexed at the sight of the portal when she'd first seen one in Dorothea's apartment, all those years ago. Although, Cary allowed, Annabelle had had the sight her entire life, while Clary's had been disabled for the first 16 years of her life. Maybe the older girl had just seen to many weird things in her life to find something as boring as a portal all that astounding.

The farmhouse Dexter had grown up in was a sweet looking thing. It was a smallish, two story abode with pale green painted weatherboard and a peeling white porch that stretched across the front of the house and round the side. About a hundred or so feet from the house was a faded barn, hay spilling through the front doors. Two weather worn silos were attached to the barn. Behind the house and barn was a very dilapidated picket fence, and behind the fence she could make out a seemingly empty paddock and acres of farmland, lines of bushy yellow flowering plants growing there. The flowers stretched out to the horizon where the woodlands started again. The drive up to the house was loose clay dirt and stained the bottom of Clary's sneakers and come up in little clouds when she stepped through the portal.

Clary, who had heard of the trip and refused to be left behind, climbed the steps to the porch after Annabelle, followed closely by the Lightwood siblings. Annabelle knocked on the door. They waited nobody answered. She shrugged and pushed open the unlocked door, and they made their way into the house.

The inside of the house was nothing special. Cream walls and chipped floorboards that led through an entry to a set of stairs, which disappeared into the top floor. To their right was a sitting room with floral curtains, an overstuffed pale blue sofa and armchair and a fireplace topped with framed photos. A boxy television sat in a TV cabinet filled with China and more photographs. To their left was a dining room with what was possibly the most worn out dining suite Clary had ever seen.

"Alright," The Annabelle started, "So Dexter's mom always kept her files and stuff in the sewing room, which is just back behind the dining room." She gestured to her left. The lightwoods nodded curtly and left through the dining room. Annabelle laughed nervously, and Clary would have had to be deaf to have missed the strain.

"They're not much for talking, are they?" She asked Clary. She smiled, sympathetically.

"The Lightwoods aren't used to being around mundanes, even if you have been seeing through glamour your entire life." She shrugged. "They've just always been a bit sheltered from all of this." She gestured around her. "It's not personal." Annabelle nodded.

"There are some photo albums in here if you want to look at them while they're in the sewing room." She gestured to the sitting room, "I mean, I don't know if it'll be any help…"

"No," Clary smiled, "We might be able to find something there. You know what they say; a picture's worth a thousand words."

XXX

"I can't believe we got lost."

Dexter rolled his eyes at Jace as they approached outside his mom's room, 112. "Grace Fletcher" was written on a label next to the door handle.

"Sorry." He turned and leant against the door. "They've moved her since I was here last."

"Which was…" Dexter sniffed and felt a wave of guilt was over him. He shifted, uncomfortable.

"Christmas." Jace raised an eyebrow.

"I know, I know." He was starting to get pissed. Like it was any of Jace's business how often he visited his mother. "I don't visit enough, okay? Don't you give me those judgey eyes." He slid down the door to the floor, staring at his feet miserably. Jace sat down next to him, and when Dexter turned to look at him, his face was softer, his eyes gentle. When he spoke his voice was kind.

"Sorry. Why not?" Dexter sighed then, pressing his palms together.

"I never know what to expect. I mean, sometimes she remembers me, and its fine and we talk and it's almost like nothing's wrong. But then most of the times I come she'll have no idea who I am, or she'll think I'm my uncle Adam, or on really bad days, her Dad. And it's just," He ran a hand through his hair, "it's just a lot easier to avoid coming all together. It just confuses her, or upsets both of us." They were silent for a few moments. Dexter almost immediately regrated saying anything.

"I'm sorry." Jace said.

"I've never understood why people always apologise for things that aren't their fault." Jace just stared at him.

"What? What's wrong?" Dexter asked, confused.

"Nothing," He said. "It's just- I guess I'm just saying that I'm sorry you're unhappy." Dexter smiled and stood up, offering his hand to Jace who stook it and allowed himself to be pulled off the ground.

"I'm not always unhappy," Dexter allowed, "Just sometimes." He turned then and knocked on the door tentatively before pushing in.

Nothing could have prepared Dexter for what he saw next. The walls of the hospital room were dripping with blood, the red oozing into the once pale carpet. It was _everywhere. _Everything in the room was completely destroyed. Furniture was torn apart, the bed mattress and pillows shredded. White feathers still floated in the air, swaying as they drifted slowly to the blood soaked floor. Whatever was of his mother lying face down, mangled and broken on the carpet.

At the sight his head jerked back instinctively, and he stepped back only to collide with Jace's front. His world spun as he felt his knees betrayed him, buckling so he could no longer stand. He expected to hit the ground, hard, but was kept from falling by a strong around his waist and across his chest. He tried to step forward, towards his mother, but Jace was half pulling, half carrying him backwards into the hallway.

Dexter's vision blurred with tears as his stomach lurched. He was allowed to kneel. He could hear screaming, but it seemed distant, and someone was saying his name, over and over again. But all he could seem to think of was how he was glad he hadn't eaten anything in the past two days.

"Dexter, Dexter!" Jace's voice and face became clear. He started to say something to him but stopped, remembering something he'd seen.

Before he knew it, he was on his feet, heading towards the door. A nurse was crying into the phone a few feet from the door. Dexter stopped at the doorway, feeling nauseous. Jace stopped next to him, gripping his arm, keeping him steady. They both stared. The words were written, dark on the window pane, dripping blood. . Jace stopped next to him, gripping his arm, keeping him steady. They both stared. The words were written, dark on the window pane, dripping blood.

_You shouldn't have left her by herself._

**Oooh cliffie. I know it's been a while since I've updated, so sorry about that. Please review or favourite if you get the chance. Thanks, **

**Beth.**


	26. I Heard Everything You Said

**Wow, two chapters in one night? I must be on a roll. **

**Thinking this is the second last chapter. **

**Hope you enjoy it. **

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own TMI, only my OC's.**

"_Hi, you've reached Annabelle's phone. Sorry I can't come to the phone right now but if you just-"_

Dexter hit the "end call" button furiously as he was met with Annabelle's message tone for the fifth time. Cars flew past them where they stood, on the side of the road outside the hospital. A police car was parked ten feet or so over. Glamour protected them from mundane eyes.

"I can't get through to her." He was starting to panic. Why wasn't she picking up? "Any luck with the others?" Jace shook his head furiously.

"Simon hasn't heard from them either." Dexter swore.

"What do we do now?"

Those words, _"You shouldn't have left her by herself." _This demon had been completely destroying everything he loved and needed to live for years. It had terrorised his mother, murdered her, and destroyed his home. It had hurt his family, tried to hurt his friends. He would not let it hurt Annabelle too. He couldn't let it. She was everything he had left.

He tried calling Annabelle again, not expecting any luck. He was surprised when she picked up on the third ring.

"Annabelle?" His heart was in his throat.

"_Not quite." _His blood ran cold. Not Annabelle.

"Who are you?" His heart beat violently in his chest. Jace's head snapped up, and he snatched phone from Dexter's ear before the other boy could protest, and pressed speaker.

"_You know who I am." _The thing hissed. Jace sucked in a breath between his teeth.

"_Raemys. _What do you _want?" _The demon laughed, and the sound turned Dexter's blood cold.

"_Jace Herondale. How cute. The two Herondale boys, last of their family, together at last. Why don't you come home Dexter? Your girlfriend here is _dying _to see you." _Dexter swallowed, feeling the anger swelling his chest.

"I'll come," He ignored Jace's hard stare, "Just don't hurt her. She doesn't have anything to do with this."

"_You're not really in a position to make deals with me. You will come, and I will do what I please with the girl. Oh you should hear the things I have in store for her after I kill you. You should hear the things I've already _done. _You know she kept screaming for you? She must love you. Kept screaming your name, over and over again-" _Jace cut him off at that point. Dexter wanted to scream.

"Listen here you piece if shit, you better bet we're coming. And you know what? I'm not going to just kill you. I'm going to _skin you. _I'm going to make Hell seem like a holiday you hear me? You know who I am. You know what I've done. You know I'm not exaggerating." There was a pause that seemed to last for hours, then a crackle of static from the phone.

"_You have until midnight."_

And then he hung up.

XXX

The last thing Alec remembered was searching through a box of phone bills that dated back to 1995, thinking that Dexter's mother was probably a hoarder. And nothing after that.

When he woke, he was somewhere dark. There was a sharp pain in the back of his head and all he could smell was rat droppings and something damp. His hands and feet were bound.

"Izzy?" He hissed, "Are you here?"

"Alec?" He breathed a sigh of relief. She was alive.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine. That fucking demon, knocked you out. We tried to fight him off but I think he's a greater demon. That thing was powerful. Alec…"

"What?"

"That thing, It's a shape shifter. It looked like," She hesitated, then spat the next words, "Like _Sebastian._" He felt the anger bubbling in his chest.

"It's trying to throw us off. Don't let it. Where's Clary? And the mundane?"

"In the house. I think it's going to use them as bait I think. To get Jace and Dexter to come here."

"Angel. Where are we?"

"The barn. We have to get out of here."

"Yeah, I'm working on it."

The only source of light in the room was a ray of moonlight struggling its way through a hole in the barn roof, but it was so dim, he could barely make out anything in front of him. All of his weapons were missing, including his witchlight. Then he remembered Isabelle.

"Iz, are you still wearing that hairpin Mom gave you last Christmas?" He heard an intake of breath as realisation hit. There was some shuffling. He smiled when he heard a metallic clink on the wooden boards beneath them. Then the sound of cutting rope.

Before he knew it Isabelle was next to him, cutting his binds.

They hesitated by the barn doors. Neither of them had any weapons, save the razor sharp hair clip. And, they discovered after peering through a crack in the barn walls, _Raemys, _wasn't the only demon there that night. There were two just outside the barn, and another eight or so around the house, probably more hiding in the canola fields or the woods around the paddocks and the driveway.

Isabelle nudged him, and gestured towards a tractor. He squinted at her; _what? _She shook her head, and pointed again. That's when he saw. Above the tractor was a rack of old tools. Everything from pruning shears to hammers to an actual _scythe. _None of it looked like it had been cleaned or even used in the past fifty years, but it would have to do.

Carefully, ever so carefully, the Lightwood children armed themselves as much as they could with the old tools. They stopped just outside the door. The demons were so close, Alec could smell the sulfur. He looked at Isabelle.

_Ready?_

_Ready. _

XXX

"Jace, I don't know how to fight." Dexter told the boy, after being instructed to lift up his shirt by a geared up Jace brandishing a Steele. They sat in the New York Institutes weapons room. It was the first time Dexter had been to New York, but he didn't exactly have time to take it in. Jace had already called Simon and Audrey, as well as another warlock he called Magnus. Dexter was not sure what to expect from this other warlock, but they needed all the help they could get. And Jace seemed to trust him. There was also mention of some werewolves.

"I know." Jace said now, fiddling with the Steele. "I'm not expecting you to. It's just for protection that's all. And to give you a hand." Dexter hesitated, then gave in, pulling up his shirt to expose bare skin. Jace knelt on the floor beside him, placing a hand on the side of ribs and holding the steel close to his skin.

"This'll sting a bit. But most Shadowhunters get their first rune when they're twelve or so, so you'll be fine." Dexter nodded, silent. The Steele did burn, but he barely felt it. His mind was elsewhere.

"She'll be okay." Jace said softly after a minute or so of silence.

"How do you know?"

"I just do. She's his only leverage to get you, really. He said he'd wait to midnight. He wasn't lying."

"He's a demon, Jace. They lie." Jace sighed and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand.

"This isn't just a way of gaining power for him Dex. You heard him on the phone. He's having _fun. _It's a game, and it would ruin it if he hurt her before he said he would."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." This was a lie, and Jace had a feeling Dexter knew it. More silence as Jace worked on the rune for agility.

"Are you in love with Annabelle?"

"You've asked me this before."

"Yeah, and I never believed you." Dexter snorted.

"Well, are you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I… I just don't know. I haven't thought about it enough."

"You're not supposed to think about it. It's love. You just feel it."

"Whatever."

"I think she loves _you_."

"Shut _up, _Jace." More silence.

"You think so?" Jace nodded.

"Yeah." Dexter just looked a bit defeated. Jace finished on the runes.

"There. That's agility, stealth and stamina. It'll help you if you get in trouble, which if everything goes to plan, won't happen." Dexter stood up. He didn't feel any different. Jace handed him a jacket that looked almost identical to the one he was wearing. It felt like pressed leather.

"Put that on." He did as he was told. Jace handed him a round cylinder.

"What's this?" Dexter asked.

"It's a seraph blade. Only use it if you need to. Its name is _Ambriel. _The name unlocks the blade." Jace frowned at the other boy.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He smiled bitterly. "This just isn't exactly how I thought I'd be spending my summer vacation.

XXX

The next few hours were a blur to Dexter. There where what seemed like a million new faces, when there were really only four or five. Magnus, a warlock that seemed to shed glitter by the buckets, a few werewolves from Clary's Step fathers pack, including a werewolf girl named Maia. Before he knew it, it was midnight.

The rest of the small army was spread in the trees, waiting for their signal. Dexter and Jace walked side by side, up the dusty path. The whole thing seemed surreal to Dexter. This was his childhood home, where he grew up. As they walked, Dexter spotted a demon lurking by the porch, and stiffened, however the demon did nothing. It just watched them, and before long he noticed other demons. One perched on top of the abandoned pick-up truck that Dexter and his father had taken parts from when he was in high school. Another stationed inside the tire swing that he had once fallen off in 5th grade and broken his arm. None of them attacked. They just watched as the pair made their way up the path towards the house.

Inside the house was eerily quiet. There was a soft glow coming from the kitchen. He looked at Jace, who motioned for him to follow. Dexter held his breath as they rounded the corner, and almost passed out in relief when he saw what was there. Annabelle and Clary. They were tied to chairs, back to back, and Annabelle was slumped forward, hair hanging over her face. But she was breathing, steadily.

Clary was awake, and when she saw them her eyes widened and she shook her head vigorously. Her mouth was gagged so all she could make was a muffled groan type noise. Behind the girls was what looked like some kind of pentagram, drown in black on the kitchen tiles. Candles glowed at five points of the star, and bowls of different kinds of something lay at different places in the circle. It all looked like something out of an episode of _Supernatural_. Jace stepped into the room before him, and it was all he could do not to go to Annabelle. But Jace had told him to be patient, to stay calm. So that's what he would do.

"_Raemys_," Jace's voice boomed through the house. "We're here. Come on. We're all yours."

"_I can see." _Both boys swiveled in the direction of the voice to see something emerging from the shadow of the living room. _"I'm disappointed. I thought you would make it harder for me. But I see you've just decided to hand deliver your brother, and yourself, to me."_

Dexter frowned at the creature emerging from the shadows. It didn't look like a creature. It was just a little boy, about seven or eight years old. Messy brown hair, grey eyes and glasses. It looked just like a little boy, but Dexter knew he wasn't. There was something off about the way it walked, the look in its eyes. Something not natural. He glanced at Jace, who looked ready to kill.

Who was this boy?

"You have exactly twenty seconds to get the hell back to your own god forsaken dimension before I _destroy _you."

"_Oh really?" _The voice that came from the demon was warped and deep, and sent shivers down his spine. The thing walked over to Clary, who wasn't even looking at it, but rather at Jace. She only looked away when the demon reached up to run a small boyish finger down her cheek. _"I can see why you're so fond of her, Jace. She's very pretty." _Jace dived a hand into his jacket, pulling out his seraph blade. At this the demon moved, so fast it was a blur. In a flash it was perched on top of the back of the chair above Annabelle. It had a fistful of hair in its hand, pulling her head back to expose her neck. The other hand brandished a knife, held too close her bare neck.

"_Move and I'll kill her before you even make it here."_

Just as it was saying this, there was a crash from outside, and the sound an inhuman scream. They hadn't given the signal to the others, but it couldn't have come at a better time. The sound distracted _Raemys _and Jace took the opportunity to lunge at the demon knocking him off the back of the chair and onto the kitchen floor, smudging the black pentagram. And then everyone was moving at once.

Glass shattered as two six foot long wolves burst through the front window. The world was lit up with flashed of colourful lights from the warlocks, and the air was filled with the sound of demons hissing and wolves howling. This was Dexter's cue to move.

He took out the dagger that Jace had given him and cut the piano wire that bound Clary to her staggered to her feet but seemed dizzy and stumbled forward. Behind them, Jace and the demon, which was slowly morphing out of the little boy and into something bigger, and hideous.

"Are you alright?" He asked the redhead over the noise as she regained her composure, "Just dizzy." Just then there was a roar and a deafening crushing sound. Clary stared over his head, and Dexter turned. The demons form was expanding, grey scaled shoulders and clawed extremities growing thicker and longer. The werewolves lunged at the thing but there were other demons appearing from nowhere, tearing them away. He turned back to Clary Annabelle, handing her the dagger as the sound of the front wall of the house crashing tore its way through the house.

"There's a cellar behind the barn. The doors are covered by soil, so they won't know it's there. Take her there, please." Clary hesitated, glancing over at Jace. Isabelle and Alec had joined (or started, he wasn't sure) the fight against the smaller demons that kept appearing out of nowhere.

"Please." He said again. She nodded.

Dexter climbed over the crushed rubbles in the hole that used to be the front of the house. Out in the front, the demons and Shadowhunters, werewolves and warlocks fought still, but Dexter's attention was on the massive demon who loomed over Jace at twelve feet in the middle of it all.

"_Your attempts are futile, Shadowhunter. They won't stop coming, not while I live. You can never defeat us." _The thing hissed as it swung a taloned arm at Jace, who rolled to avoid it. He slipped a slim dagger from one of his wrist cuffs and it sailed through the air, slicing into on of the demons numerous eyes. The thing screamed, and swung its arm again, catching Jace off guard this time. The demons fist collided with Jace's side, and he flew through the air, landing about fifteen feet away and rolling on his side. The boy sputtered and gasped, holding his side as he struggled to his feet, the demon advancing again.

Dexter looked around him, frantic. What could he do? He couldn't fight, he had no skills. No powers, no abilities. He looked again at the demon. It was a crouched thing, with a tail that lay flat behind it. It was like a beaver tail, flat and round at the end, growing slimmer the closer it was to his body. An idea began to form in his mind.

He ran back to the barn, dodging a werewolf on his way. He slipped on the gravel leading up to the barn as he staggered up the hill. Bursting into the old building, he prayed that it was still where it used to be. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the old tractor, harrow still attached from the last plantation. The keys were nowhere to be found, probably still on their hook in the kitchen. He leaned into the tractor and pulled off the cover to the wiring. He was fiddling with the ignition wires when something attached to his jacket and pulled his out. He flew, crashing into the tool rack. He gasped in pain as the hooks stuck into his back.

A demon loomed over him, its fanged mouth wide open, dripping saliva that hissed when it hit eh ground. The thing wrapped a tentacle around his arm and flung him again, over the tractor and into the far wall. It followed hissing as it went. Groaning he rolled onto his front and fumbled in his jacket for the seraph blade. As he felt the cool glass in his palm, the demon swung a clubbed tail, catching him in the chin, causing him to drop the blade. It swung again, and this time Dexter held his arm in front of him to defend himself. He hear the crunch of bone, heard it break, but he couldn't concentrate on the pain. The demon seemed to somewhat lose its balance, and he took the opportunity then to reach for the blade.

"_Ambriel." _He gasped, and watched as the blade shot from the handle, glowing eerily blue. The demon flinched at the light, and he didn't even hesitate in swing the blade, severing the creatures head. He watched for a few moments as its body folded in on itself, disappearing into thin air.

He struggled to his feet, feeling every movement, but not forgetting what he had to do. He looked out the door, saw the demon and Jace. It had him, dangling in its fist above the ground. He saw Isabelle fighting off a demon with his grandfather's old scythe a bit away from them. Leaning into the tractor with one hand, Dexter fiddled with the ignition wires. He pressed two wires together and thanked God when the engine roared to life. He retrieved the brick used to keep the machine in place from under its wheel and drooped it on the accelerator pedal. He let the handbrake go, and watched the thing accelerate through the open barn door, praying to God that his father hadn't invested in a new leveling assembly.

He was in luck. The tractor swerved to the left on its damaged wheel, beeline for _Raemys _and Jace. It rolled onto the flat base of its tail, the harrow spikes piercing its flesh. The thing howled and dropped Jace. He fell and landed awkwardly on his feet, tumbling to his side. Isabelle, seeing the commotion from where she clung to the back of a struggling demon, took her opportunity. Launching herself from the demon, she landed and clung to the back of _Raemys' _shoulder. With one swift movement, she swung the scythe, decapitating it. Dropping to the ground, she stood back and watched.

The demon began slowly folding in on itself. Dexter stumbled down the slope, transfixed. It's piercing screams filled the night as it imploded on its own body. But then he realized that all the other demons had stopped what they were doing, and had begun screaming as well. As if all of them had been connected to the larger demon, they began to crumple inwards, and within ten seconds their screams had stopped. The world was silent.

For a second everyone just stared at each other, shocked at the speed in which things had gone from chaos to peace.

Dexter took a step forward towards Jace and Isabelle, holding his arm gingerly, but when he moved his feet the ground turned beneath him, and he felt himself tipping involuntarily. There were hands on his back, lowering him to the ground as things got fuzzy for the second time that day.

"What's wrong with him?" He jeard Jace ask as he approached Dexter.

"He's been poisoned," Luke said from behind him. "We need to get him to the institute, fast." The other boy nodded.

"Magnus! Set up a portal to New York." Jace knelt down beside him and Dexter reached up with his good arm and gripped his shoulder.

"They're in the storm cellar, behind the barn."

"Clary and Anny?" Dexter nodded. "We'll get them don't worry."

He felt himself slipping as black splotches stained his vision. The humming of a truck entered the air, and Dexter saw his father's new truck pulling up at the top of his driveway, and the tall surly man get out. Then everything fell into darkness.

**Okay, so wow! A lot happened in that chapter, hey? **

**Next chapter will probably be the last chapter. I may or may not do a very short epilogue. I haven't decided yet. **

**Review please, Let me know what you think.**

**Love, **

**Beth**


	27. Wish We Could Start All Over

Dexter paused just outside the doorway to the kitchen, out of site from those inside.

He was in the Institute, or at least that's what he guessed. Last time he'd been here he'd only seen the outside, the foyer and the weapons room. But the floorboards where the same colour, and the light fittings where the same rose shape as they had been before.

He'd only been awake for five minutes or so, and his head was still groggy, his vision slightly blurred behind his glasses. Waking up in the Institute's infirmary was similar to waking up in the infirmary in Idris. He woke on a metal framed bed, covered in blankets under a very similar cherub filled heaven painted on a domed ceiling. His arm was wrapped in bandages, slung up against his chest with a triangle bandage. The dressings for burn wounds had been removed and he could see the amount of healing that had already taken place. He was surprised to see that he lacked any other wounds.

He was also surprised to see his father, all six foot five of him, asleep in the chair next to his bed.

What was he doing here? Dexter hadn't spoken to his father in months. It had always been that way with them, though. It had been easy when he was a kid, but as he got older they just seemed to drift apart. Francis was a burly, simple minded man who was completely content with his work on the farm. Grace had always told Dexter how happy he'd been when she finally agreed to let them move back there. As a kid, Dexter had been perfectly happy helping out on the farm. Some of it felt like a chore, but there had been a certain pleasure in sitting on the back of the tractor, behind his father, during harvesting season, or dragging bales of hay out for the when the produce in the paddocks was too sparse.

But as he'd gotten older and gone to high school, it occurred to him that maybe that wasn't all there was. He'd always been expected to just take over the farm with his father, but what if that wasn't what he wanted? What if he wanted something more? What if he wanted to travel, to live by the ocean and meet new people and learn about history and language and art? What if he didn't want to be stuck on a rundown farm in the middle of nowhere?

He and Francis disagreed on this from the very beginning, especially after his mom got sick. And when Dexter had left for college, when they were no longer together and there was no longer any obligation to talk every day, they grew apart. Now they only talked on birthdays and Christmas and when they visited Grace in hospital. He didn't really want it to be like that, but he didn't know if there could ever be any other way.

And now, seeing his father sleeping so close to the bed, Dexter was stuck as to what he should do in this situation. So, being the normal, well-adjusted you adult that he was, he slipped, as quietly as he could, out of the bed, slid into some jeans, and snuck into the hallway praying to God that the other man wouldn't wake up.

"No, Izzy, you have to put the butter in _before _the eggs. Otherwise they stick."

Annabelle's voice snapped him out of his reverie, and pushed his way into the kitchen.

"Look who's awake."

Annabelle and Isabelle stood at the kitchen island, mixing bowls, eggs, spoons, flour and countless other breakfast ingredients in front of them. Isabelle was frowning at melting butter on a frying pan, and Annabelle was holding a whisk in one hand and a glass bowl in the other. Alec, Jace and Clary sat at the kitchen tables with their own helpings of what looked like chocolate chip pancakes. Annabelle leaned over the counter and grabbed an empty plate.

"You hungry?" She asked him. It wasn't until the then that he realized he was famished.

Before he knew it he was settled next to Clary at the table, a stack of pancaked in front of him. Somebody handed him a massive cup of milk, sugary coffee. Something was off. Nobody looked injured, or even soar, apart from a large, yellowing bruise of Annabelle's neck. And they all seemed to be in the highest of spirits. Anabelle was lively, cheerful, despite the fact that the last time he saw her she was unconscious, tied to a chair by a psychotic demon.

"How long have I been out?" There was a few moments of silence before Jace spoke up.

"Couple of days…" He trailed off.

"Let's try this again. How long have I been in the infirmary?" More silence.

"Couple of weeks."

"A COUPLE OF WEEKS?" He felt Annabelle's hand firmly on his shoulders, pushing back down into his seat.

"You were healing," Jace told him, "Shadowhunters don't have any quick remedies for demon poisoning."

"Two weeks, though? Why don't I remember waking up?" Alec spoke up this time.

"The first poisoning is always the worst," He picked up his empty plate and cup, carrying it to the kitchen with him, "It's something you have to develop an immunity to. When you woke up before you were in a trance. Kept muttering about random things. And you were never awake for very long." Dexter just shook his head, face in his hands.

"Have you talked to your dad yet?" Annabelle again, from behind him. Her voice was quiet so that only he could hear her.

"No," He muttered, "He was asleep when I woke up."

"Talk to him. After everything that's happened, don't you think it would be a good idea to turn over a new leaf, or something?"

He hated it when she was right.

XXX

Dexter had never been afraid of Francis. Despite the fact that he towered five inches above his head, with shoulders as broad as the Mississippi was long, the older man was about as threatening as an oversized teddy bear. And, despite everything, it was comforting to have him there. He'd looked up to him as a kid, this giant with all its strength. He'd always known that he would never grow to look like him, or to be as tall as him, but he'd always aspired to _be _like him. His confidence, his stability. The way he was always so sure of himself. He still did aspire to be these things, but be damned if he ever told Francis that.

They stood apart now, a safe distance between them. But Dexter wished one of them would have the guts to step closer.

"Dad…" He started, but was cut off.

"I'm sorry." Francis swallowed loudly, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"What? Why?"

"I always pushed you into taking over the farm. I mean, I know it wasn't what you wanted but…" He swore, "I'm not saying this right." He took a step towards him.

"What you have to understand is that we were scared, me and your mother. Your entire life, we were knew that you weren't a normal kid. We knew you were special. That's why we moved out to the farm, why we were always so strict about where you went. We weren't trying to control you, Dex, we were trying to keep you safe…" Dexter swallowed.

"Dad…" He was cut off again.

"No, please, just let me finish please? Thank you. After your mom got sick, and you started talking about college and travel and stuff, to be honest I freaked out. I started to think about what could happen if you went out… into the world, by yourself. So I tried to make you stay. To protect you. You have to believe me son. I know I may not have gone about it in the right way, but that was all I was trying to do. All I ever tried to do. Do you understand?" Dexter nodded, and felt a lump rising in his throat. He pushed it back down.

"I- I ran, Dad. After what happened with Mom I just wanted to get out." He shifted his weight, staring at his feet, "And after I did I hated myself for it. For leaving you alone. But then I didn't want to come back, and I was too proud to say sorry. But I am. I am sorry."

Suddenly there were strong arms around his shoulders and waist, and his head was knocking against Francis' chin. He hesitated. Francis had never been very touchy feely, so this amount of physical contact was a rarity. After a moment though, he reciprocated the action, and suddenly he realized how much he missed his him. After a few moments his father's hands were on his shoulders pushing him back so the two could look each other in the eyes.

They didn't look much alike, obviously. There were no hereditary traits between them. Francis was a massive man with strong arms, hair the colour of straw and corn-flour blue eyes that were almost lost amid the freckles and wrinkles gained from years working outdoors. Dexter was strong too, working on the farm had done that for him, but he had a slimmer waist and shoulders. He has spent years working on the farm too, but never as much as his father had, so his skin was softer, more youthful.

"I lived on that farm by myself for a good fifteen years before I met your mother. I missed you, yes, and your mother, every day. But I was never lonely, you hear me? Never. " Dexter nodded again.

"She's gone, Dad. The demon killed her." Francis' eyes were full of grief as he agreed.

"It's because of me, isn't it? Because they didn't want her to warn us, or help us, right?" The other man was already shaking his head.

"No. Don't you dare start thinking like that, you hear me? The moment you start worth that you won't be able to stop. It is not your fault that she is dead. It's the demons fault." Dexter nodded, but wasn't sure if he was convinced yet.

He and his father hugged goodbye. Francis had to get back to the farm, and the matter if repairing all that was destroyed by the demons, now that he knew his son was okay. The Shadowhunters offered to draw him up a portal, but the old man refused. Said those things made him feel weird.

They said goodbye again as he helped him back his few belongings into the cab.

He'd missed a lot while he was sick. Sam had been calling non-stop, apparently, and he would have to call him back and tell him that it was all alright now. He'd missed his mother's funeral, which upset him, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Investigations into what had happened to her and what had taken place on the farm, and it was found that the demon was solely responsible for the damage done. Jace told him that he would give him some permanent runes, to protect him from anything like this happening again. Although, he had told him, it wasn't likely. Demons had never been smart creatures, but apparently they learnt from the mistakes of others. It would take a gutsy beast to go after him after what had happened to _Raemys_. The thought was somewhat comforting.

Dexter watched the cab slide away over the bubbling tarmac, the air waving in the late July heat. It was getting late in the day by now. The sun was setting low in the sky, burning red across the New York skyline. The day was ending, as all things do. He turned back to the institute gates. Jace and Annabelle stood side by side, waiting for him. Morning would come soon, and he could resume his life again. The worst was behind him, and as he walked the steps towards one person he was just beginning to love, and another he had loved completely for the majority of his life, he knew that they would be fine.

They were going to be okay.

**This chapters a short one, but I felt like it said everything that needed to be said. **

**One short Epilogue after this, and then I'm done. **

**I would just like to say, thank you. This was my first attempt at fan fiction, and I started writing this story approximately two and a half years ago. It has taken a long time to write, and I don't know if any of you reading now are the same people who started reading when this fic was first posted, but if you are, than thank you so much. Even if you only just started reading last week, or earlier today, thank you. You guys have been my inspiration, and I could never have done it without the reassuring reviews and favourites and follows. So thank you again. I've had so much fun writing this for you guys, and even If I've made just one person smile or laugh or even just be entertained, than I will rest happily tonight. **

**Thank you. **

**Love, **

**Beth.**


	28. Epilogue

_****_**I decided to end this one on a lighter not. Thank you so much for reading. **

**__Enjoy.**

_**Seven Years Later**_

"I cannot believe you two are parents." Simon said for about the hundredth time since he'd arrived that morning.

"Yeah Si, we know you can't believe it." Clary laughed from the hospital bed. It had been a long night, but the product of the pain and effort was plenty enough to make her want to do it over and over again. She reached over to Jace, who sat in a chair beside the infirmary bed, grinning down at the tiny blue bundle of blankets that held their new baby son.

He'd been a breached birth, which made the whole ordeal about ten times harder than it needed to be, and his head was still squished so it was slightly oval shaped, but Clary knew that after a few days it round out. He was wrinkly and pink with puffy eyelids and a crumpled chin and had these tufts of blonde hair sprouting from the top of his head. His eye colour wouldn't show itself for weeks, but Clary had a feeling that they would be the exact same shade of honeycomb as Jace's. Clary couldn't have asked for a baby more perfect than this one.

"I can't believe it took you so long to _have _kids, personally. You two haven't had your hands off of each other since Clary's eighteenth birthday." Isabelle piped from Jace's shoulder where she stood, making ridiculous faces at the tiny bundle.

"It _was _a memorable night." Jace allowed. Alec snorted from beside Isabelle.

"I think we _all _remember that night. You could hear it three blocks over."

"Hey!" Clary was indignant. Jace grinned at her.

"Well you can't _really _claim to be a virgin anymore, Clare. You know, on account of …" He gestured to their son. Clary just laughed. There was a tentative knock at the infirmary door, which inched open.

"Oh my- is this him?" Anabelle shuffled towards Jace, peering into the blankets. Dexter followed her into the room, holding a pale blue gift bag which he place at the foot of the bed.

"He's pretty cute. Looks like you, Clary." She grinned.

"You think so?"

"Definitely."

An hour later, Clary's head lolled onto Jace's shoulder where he lay net to her on the bed. Magnus, Isabelle and Alec sat together on a neighbouring bed which they'd pulled closer to the new parents. Dexter and Annabelle lounged together on a sofa, hands intertwined, next to Simon, who held the sleeping baby in his arms.

Jace and Clary did have children late, especially for Shadowhunters. They had been married since she was twenty two and he was twenty three, but Clary just hadn't been ready for a baby. The prospect of pregnancy and childbirth had scared her a little bit, and it actually took a surprise pregnancy to get her to force herself to love the idea of parenthood. And she was glad for it. Now she couldn't imagine a world without the baby.

Alec and Magnus where happier than ever. She wasn't sure she could count how many years they'd been living together now, but they didn't seem to be in any hurry to change their circumstances.

Isabelle and Simon weren't together anymore, but that was okay. Isabelle was currently in love with a Shadowhunter from Ireland names Patrick, was expecting some kind of proposal any time soon. Simon had just started dating a witch named Sarah, who stayed away from magic and preferred to concentrate on exotic herbal remedies. From what Clary could tell, they were quite smitten with each other.

Dexter and Annabelle had just celebrated their second wedding anniversary. Nobody was surprised when they started dating. It seemed almost natural.

"So," Simon started now, "Have you thought of a name yet?"

"Well," Jace looked at Clary for confirmation, and she nodded, "We were thinking of maybe naming him James. James Zachariah."

"Aw that's cute."

"It has a nice ring, yeah."

"I think it suits him."

"What made you chose those names?" Clary thought about Magnus' question. She shrugged.

"They seemed to fit, you know? It worked. He looks like a James, doesn't he?" Magnus' smile was strangely wistful, and he said nothing, but nodded.

"James Zachariah, the first of what I'm sure will be many Lightwood children." Isabelle smiled, "So, when are you gonna have another one?" Jace snorted.

"Iz, we only just got _this one._"

"Yeah, but don't you want him to have some siblings." Clary laughed.

"Yeah, but not for another two years at least. I'm still recovering." Isabelle pouted.

"Shame he won't have any siblings close to his age to play with." Simon stood up, carefully, returning James to his mother.

"Well, at least he'll have a cousin close to his age." He said. Clary did a double take.

"Wait what? Izzy are you..?" The raven haired woman shook her head.

"No way. If I were, I wouldn't be keeping it a secret." She looked at Alec and Magnus, who shook their heads. All eyes turned on Annabelle and Dexter, who shifted in their seat. Annabelle smiled nervously.

"Thanks Simon."

"Sorry." Dexter coughed.

"So, um, we have news?"

_**Fin**_


End file.
